


Foreshadowed Horizon

by Shadow15



Series: From Dusk to Dawn the Dark is Endless [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety, Bisexual Peter Quill, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Peter Quill Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-07-17 06:25:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16089902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow15/pseuds/Shadow15
Summary: After fourteen years of abuse at the hands of his father, it's no surprise Peter is so shattered.  But, no matter how broken he seems, in the care of Yondu, he finally has a chance to show just how resilient he is.Prequel to 'Hour of Twilight'.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prequel to Hour of Twilight, which covers most of Quill's backstory and up to the events HoT starts at.

There had not been an ounce of trust in Peter Quill’s heart the day the people in matching clothes swept into his home and took him away from his father.  The tears he’d shed hadn’t been out of love for the man he’d known since birth, but rather, they were tears of terror and uncertainty. 

“You’re going to be okay now,” one of the women in the blue clothing told him as she’d carried him out of the house and to the awaiting car.  “He can’t hurt you any more.” 

Peter had barely understood the words spoken to him - but then again, it was hard for him to understand Ego, too; words just… got so jumbled in his mind, he could only differentiate things by if he were being screamed at. 

But here, he wasn’t being screamed at, or kicked around - he…  Part of him couldn’t help but lean into the woman’s arms as his tiny, malnourished body  _ craved  _ for a touch as gentle as his mother’s had been. 

It had all been one terrifying experience, one after another as he was bounced around so many people - so many  _ places  _ \- he just couldn’t stop crying as he worried himself sick over when his next beating would be. 

Peter sobbed as wounds were cleaned, stitched, and glued back together. He sobbed as cream was rubbed over his burns, and his broken bones were promised to be healed so long as he kept casts on his limbs. 

But through it all, nothing terrified him more than the big, grizzled man named Yondu who came and took him away from the place that had treated his injuries - a hospital, Yondu would later tell him, but Peter wouldn’t remember that; not for a long time. 


	2. Chapter 2

Peter was the quietest boy Yondu had ever met.  It didn’t even seem to be from shyness, he acknowledged; it was almost as if Peter had been taught from a young age to not make a sound - and from what he had read of the case notes, that probably  _ was  _ the case. 

Yondu shut the front door to his home behind them before he flicked the light switch on and gestured around. “So, this is my home.  You can put your bag in your bedroom. I’ll show you where it is.” 

Peter followed behind in silence, his head ducked and his tiny arms wrapped around a backpack that wasn’t his.  He was so small, so  _ frail _ , there was no way he was the fourteen-year-old Yondu had been told he was. He looked no older than seven, and Yondu felt sick at the knowledge. 

When they were standing outside of Peter’s new bedroom, Yondu scratched the back of his bald head in contemplation.  What did he do now? Did he take the boy inside? After reading the kid’s file, he knew doing so would most likely only spark panic in Peter.  

Instead, Yondu stepped away a few paces before he murmured, “You can put your bag anywhere you like in there.  What you got? Some clothes?” 

When Peter looked up into Yondu’s face, he held the most heartbreaking expression Yondu had ever seen on such a young child.  His bottom lip quivered, and his eyes were watery and fearful as he fidgeted with the strap of his bag, as if he wasn’t sure he should open it or not.  Yondu wasn’t even sure he understood the questions. 

Yondu knelt down to make himself as non-threatening as possible.  His smile was toothy as he reached out slowly to take the bag. Peter gave no resistance whatsoever, though judging by the way his body quivered, he probably didn’t want to let go of the bag.  Their eyes stayed locked on each other’s until Yondu opened the zip and reached inside, withdrawing a Walkman. 

It was at that, Peter gave a squeal as the tears finally fell.  He leapt forward, his tiny fingers grasping desperately for the Walkman as his squeals became more and more terrified.  He was distraught enough to claw relentlessly against Yondu’s roughened hands despite his fear, but Yondu understood; as frightened as Peter was of people, he loved his Walkman enough to act out at the idea something could happen to it. 

“Alright, alright!” Yondu quickly handed the device over to its owner, making a mental note to never touch it again; it clearly held importance to Peter, and as rough as he was, he wasn’t in the habit of making kids cry.  “There. You feelin’ better now? What else you got in here?” 

When Yondu withdrew a mixtape, that too was snatched from his hands with a cry.  Yondu said nothing about it; he only looked into the now-empty bag and found the boy indeed had nothing else with him.  

Yondu sighed.  “Why’d they give you a bag if you ain’t got nothin’ to bring with you?”

Yondu didn’t get a response.  Nothing except for tear-blurred eyes that stared fearfully at him.  He handed the bag back to Peter and gestured for him to put his belongings away before he got back to his feet and wondered what the next thing for him to do was.

Yondu figured feeding the boy was his next step.  Feeding and clothing him had priority over anything else - but it was late, and would there be any clothing shops still open?  

He hummed.  Well, for the meanwhile, Peter could always use one of his shirts for bedwear.  

“Pete?” Yondu looked around for the boy.  He hated how quickly Peter had scrambled to him at his name; why hadn’t he been taught to just  _ walk  _ like a normal kid?  “Pete, I’m gonna get you some food and see if we can’t get you some PJs.  What do you want for dinner?” 

Peter stared blankly at Yondu, as if being asked such a question just went straight over his head.  As Yondu realised, it probably  _ did _ .  

“Alright,” Yondu tried again.  “Some McDonald’s. All kids like McDonald’s.  Gimme your hand; let’s get goin’.” 

Yondu pretended not to hear the soft sobs that came with holding Peter’s hand gently in his own.  This kid was broken, and it was horrifying to have learnt  _ why _ .  He closed his eyes briefly and willed himself to be strong.  

“That’s my car out there,” Yondu tried to converse once he had shut and locked the front door behind them.  “Nineteen-ninety-three Mazda Navajo.” 

Peter continued to stare blankly at the SUV, but Yondu wasn’t deterred. 

“Yeah, got lots more cars down at my shop,” Yondu tried.  “Some new, some old - but mostly for work. And customers bring in all sorts - wouldn’t believe some o’ the stuff I see.” 

Finally, Peter lifted his head to gaze at Yondu.  His mouth opened and closed wordlessly, but there was still a glint in his eye Yondu hadn’t seen before. “...”

With the hope that talking so calmly to Peter was doing  _ something _ , if only making him more comfortable, he kept talking.  “I’ll be down at the shop again tomorrow; you can come with and see what we do.  Got some old cars I’ll let you play around with if you wanna - teach ya some stuff for when you’re older, too.” 

Peter gave a soft hum. Yondu couldn’t help but hope that it was of interest, despite knowing just how unlikely his wishes were.  

“Alright now.” They’d stopped at the SUV now, but Yondu had reached another conundrum; while Peter was old enough to ride in the front, his stunted growth probably meant being in the back was the safest option for him.  ...But really, the poor kid just needed to learn to feel safe, and shoving him in the back would probably do nothing except make him feel like he were even  _ less  _ of a human being than he already did.  “Jump in the front; you can ride with me.” 

Peter was as frightened in the car as he was in Yondu’s home, the man noticed, but talking so calmly to him - regardless of whether or not Peter understood what was being said to him - seemed to be the best thing Yondu could do for him; it would acclimate the boy to Yondu, and  _ hopefully  _ negate him away from anticipating the abuse he had known his whole life.  

So Yondu kept talking.  He told Peter about his work as a mechanic, about how he could work on cars as well as heavy vehicles if ever he was called upon.  He spoke about his young apprentice, and told Peter about his small circle of friends. Throughout it all, Peter never spoke, but even though he refused to look at Yondu, Yondu was sure he was listening as best he could. 

They’d reached McDonald’s, and after Yondu bought a family meal - his neighbour-slash-apprentice would appreciate some food, too - he allowed Peter to eat as they drove home. 

“When we get home, I’ll go run some o’ that food to Kraglin,” Yondu said softly.  “You wanna come with and meet him?” 

Peter gave no acknowledgement that he understood he’d been asked a question; he simply continued picking at his french fries, as if he were internally debating on whether or not he wanted to eat them.  

Yondu was getting a clearer picture, though.  After all the time he had spent talking to Peter, he was starting to understand that, though Peter  _ did  _ listen to what he had to say, he probably didn’t understand  _ much  _ of it.  It made Yondu curious; did Peter understand the music on those mixtapes he had?  Or did he simply like the rhythms? 

Just to see, Yondu turned the radio on and tuned in to the first song he found.  Peter definitely perked up now, and the way his mouth moved wordlessly was enough for Yondu to piece together that Peter’s physical growth wasn’t the only thing stunted; his mental development had been, too.

It was expected, though.  After knowing nothing  _ but  _ abuse, Peter could still be salvaged - he just needed to  _ learn _ .  

* * *

Peter trailed behind Yondu fearfully once the door had been opened for him to come out of the car.  His hand was gripped warmly in Yondu’s own calloused one, but it was different to how Ego had held his hands; there had always been pain associated with Ego - whether it be physically or emotionally - but with Yondu, it was… 

Well, with all of Peter’s limited understanding of the world, he didn’t even know how to explain it.

“This is Krag’s house,” Yondu explained as he led Peter over the strip of lawn between the two driveways.  “He’s a good kid - bit like you, really. His father didn’t like him much, too.” 

There wasn’t much of that sentence that made sense to Peter - but the part he  _ did  _ understand only hurt him; he’d always tried his hardest to be the good boy Ego always told him to be, but no matter what, he was only ever bad.  How did he be a good boy for Yondu? Maybe he should watch what the new person did and copy him…? 

Peter’s fingers found their way into his mouth as anxiety pooled in his stomach.  He kept his head low and hoped he wouldn’t be noticed as he followed Yondu in through the open front door and into a bright, furnished living room that felt  _ far  _ more welcoming than the dark, frightening and almost  _ empty  _ one at his old house.  

“Cute kid.” Kraglin, whom Peter hadn’t paid any attention to, allowed his gaze to take in the newcomer.  A frown tugged at his lips before he looked back to Yondu. “Very nervous.” 

Yondu nodded.  He didn’t give Peter any attention when he felt the boy ducking beneath his long, red coat; if Peter needed to try and hide for comfort, that was okay.  “He’s been abused.  _ Badly _ .” 

Kraglin’s frown grew.  He accepted the McDonald’s bag and drink Yondu handed him.  “Hey, thanks… Just worry ‘bout feedin’ him, okay?” 

Yondu used his free hand to clap Kraglin on the shoulder.  “I’ll take him back home an’ get ‘im settled. Come over if you need to.  I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

Kraglin nodded. He watched Yondu coax Peter out from under his coat so he could take the boy’s hand and lead him outside once more.  “Bye, Pete…” 

Peter gave Kraglin a wary glance over his shoulder before he looked nervously back up at Yondu. He gulped heavily, hoping Yondu wasn’t going to be mad at them when they got back to Yondu’s home - but, to his relief, Yondu did little more than take him inside and sit him in front of the fireplace to fight away the chill. 

“Right, it’s your first night here so we’ll go easy,” Yondu promised. “Bath in the mornin’, and we’ll go shoppin’ for ya after work.  Eat your dinner, boy; it’s almost bedtime.” 

If Peter understood or not, it wasn’t clear - but regardless, he picked at his McDonald’s, all the while watching Yondu warily.  He showed no acknowledgement of the TV playing in the background, but Yondu wasn’t concerned about it yet; he’d fostered other kids like Peter who’d been too nervous of their new surroundings to care for TV. 

But Peter was in a league of his own, Yondu was finding out.  He hadn’t finished his food before he’d crawled to a corner and kneeled with his head bowed, as if he were some sort of servant awaiting orders. 

“Hey…” Yondu patted the empty space next to him to try and coax him into the couch.  “Come up here, ‘k?”

Peter hesitated.  The fear on his face increased, but eventually he scrambled to obey.  But what Peter did next told Yondu Peter probably understood couches were used for something  _ other  _ than relaxing. 

“Hey!” There was a bit of gruff in Yondu’s tone as he grabbed Peter’s hips and moved him off his lap. He cleared his throat uncomfortably as he placed Peter next to him. “None o’ that; I ain’t like your father, boy!”

Peter whimpered. Suspiciously, the spot Yondu was sitting felt wet, and all it took was a quick glance at Peter to understand why.  

Yondu wanted to get Peter’s father and beat the shit out of him.  Whatever he’d done to this poor kid, Peter was either scared enough of men to piss himself at the slightest sign of being in trouble, or he didn’t know to use toilets. 

No matter the reason, Yondu hated that boy’s father with everything in him. 

“It’s alrigh’,” Yondu promised. “You’re not in trouble.  I’ll get you somethin’ clean to wear - get you into bed; yer had a big day, boy.”

Peter snivelled to himself until Yondu indeed returned with a shirt that was so big on Peter, it dragged along the ground - another sign of just how neglected Peter had been.  

As they walked through the house and down the hallway, Peter stuck his fingers into his mouth again. Yondu said nothing about it; Peter was stunted, but he had all the time in the world to help him through it. 

They walked into Peter’s bedroom now, but as soon as Peter was led to the bed, he started screaming.  Yondu knew why; Peter was so damaged, he didn’t understand beds were for sleeping on - instead, he’d been trained to associate them with something a boy so young should have no knowledge of. 

Yondu wasn’t going to force it - not so soon, anyway. He pulled Peter away and waited for him to stop crying before he knelt down and murmured, “I can make you a bed on the couch instead, boy. Would you rather that?” 

Peter continued sniveling as his only response.  Yondu, knowing he couldn’t push Peter far at all, told him to wait there so he could go and fetch pillows.  It was probably the only positive outcome of Peter’s tiny height, because he fit perfectly on the bed of pillows Yondu had made up for him as far away from the bed as he could. 

“Okay, lay down, Pete,” Yondu instructed.  He’d pulled the blankets off the bed, and once Peter had curled up, he draped them over him and tucked him in tight.  “Goodnight, boy. Wake me up if you need anything.” 

As usual, Peter remained silent as he watched Yondu flick the light off and leave the room.  As terrified as Peter was, with all the excitement, he was quick to fall asleep, too exhausted to keep his eyes open any longer. 


	3. Chapter 3

Peter didn’t eat much.  No matter how hard Yondu tried to get him to eat his breakfast, Peter only pushed his cereal around with his spoon. Yondu didn’t like it, but he couldn’t do anything about it; he had to be at the garage to open shop and be there for the customers dropping their cars off early. 

“Pete, are you ready?” Yondu reached his hand out for Peter’s.  “Let’s go to the garage, okay?” 

Peter’s fingers found their way back into his mouth as he extended his other hand hesitantly into Yondu’s. He allowed himself to be led out of the house and into the car, and just as he had the night previous, he showed no acknowledgement towards Yondu. 

That changed when they got to the garage, though.  It must have been the new surroundings - well,  _ newer  _ surroundings - that had done it, because Yondu certainly hadn’t expected for Peter to press himself against his leg and hold on for dear life. 

“Alright, Pete.” Yondu fished his keys from his pocket to unlock the lobby doors.  He moved next to unlock the shed as he said to Peter, “You stay with me. You stay close to me - I don’t want you gettin’ hurt.  Don’t put your fingers in anythin’ - ‘specially in nothin’ I put mine in.” 

Peter looked at Yondu now. There was a frown on his face, but he didn’t otherwise seem upset; just nervous of this new uncertainty.  

But Peter, who’d started off hiding in one of the corners as he watched Yondu and Kraglin work on customer cars, inched closer and closer every so often until he was close enough to curl his fingers into Yondu’s pants and observe the way the man unbolted the rear of the car. 

Yondu didn’t want Peter to feel as if he didn’t know what was happening, so with his wrench, he tapped the thick rubber band not far from the wheel. “See this?  This is a bushin’. It’s torn, so we gotta replace it or it’ll damage the suspension. We pull the suspension off ta get to it.” 

The explanation went right over Peter’s head, but he didn’t ask questions; instead, his eyes focused on the wrench in Yondu’s hand and committed it to memory - big, scary grey stick to pull stuff off the car; got it. 

Peter formulated everything in his mind as he observed - hell, he’d observed so much today, he knew what went where to take something off the car, even if it was a different size or it was located in a different area on other cars. 

But Peter remembered, and he found himself learning the pattern to what it was Yondu was doing now.  

But before Peter could learn how to put the car back together again, Yondu was looking at him directly.  

“What you say we go have lunch?” Yondu looked next to Kraglin, who had just joined them with the pack of bushings to pass to Yondu.  He grabbed Peter’s hand and took a step forward, but before any of them could get very far, there was a deafening clang from above them as the side of the lift they were walking towards came crashing down to the ground, followed by the truck on top. 

“Christ!” Yondu shoved Kraglin backwards to get him out of harm’s way before he crouched down and shielded Peter with his own body. He braced himself for the imminent crushing, but the front wheel of the truck caught on the post and hung in the air just above his head. 

“Yondu!” Kraglin hurried over to check on them. 

“Take Pete.” There was no hesitation in Yondu to push Peter into Kraglin’s arms to get him out of danger before he crawled out from under the wreckage, just in time for the wheel and axle to detach from the vehicle, leaving it to crash the rest of the way onto the ground and onto where he had been only moments ago. 

Peter, whose heart was racing a mile a minute, stared at Yondu in disbelief; had the man really just protected him…?  

“You ‘kay, Pete?” Yondu gruffed as he checked the boy over for any injury. “Krag, you hurt?” 

Kraglin shook his head.  He didn’t let Peter out of his arms as he shakily responded, “I’m okay…” 

“Hell…” Yondu turned around to survey the mess.  He scratched his head as he tried to think of what to do about the situation; he  _ really  _ wasn’t in the mood to deal with telling his customer their vehicle had been destroyed in his shop.  “...Krag, go take Pete out to lunch; let me deal with this.” 

Kraglin was too shaken up to argue.  He took Peter by the hand and led him away from the mess in silence.  But Peter couldn’t stop staring over his shoulder at Yondu in awe as he allowed Kraglin to guide him out of the shop; the only person in his entire life who’d ever tried to protect him had been his mother - everyone else had only ever sought to hurt him. 

But Yondu… 

Yondu was the first person in so many years who hadn’t hurt him - the  _ only other person  _ in his  _ life  _ who’d put themselves in danger to  _ protect  _ him. 

Peter pressed himself against Kraglin’s leg as he put his fingers in his mouth. Maybe…  There really  _ were  _ people in the world who didn’t want to hurt him the way his father had.

* * *

 

When Kraglin came back to the garage with Peter in tow, Peter got just that tiny bit closer.  The truck had been cleaned up and Yondu was working instead within the engine bay of another car - but Peter, who’d learnt Yondu’s pattern now, knew that once he’d looked over the bay, cleaned it up and checked the water, Yondu would get under the car and drain the black stuff. 

Peter remembered everything he had watched earlier, so while Yondu was still wiping away dirt under the hood, Peter hurried to the toolbox and carefully examined the sizes until he found the one that closest matched his memory of being used on the other car that was the same colour.

He brought it over to Yondu. The look of surprise on Yondu’s face made him nervous, but when Yondu gave a toothy grin as he accepted the tool, Peter gave his first smile in what must have been a lifetime. 

“You rem’bered,” Yondu praised. He reached out and ruffled Peter’s head in affection. Peter cringed, but it took him only seconds to relax and lean into the affection.  “But ya know, just ‘cause a car is the same colour, doesn’t mean they take the same tools. But you got it right this time.”

Peter made a soft sound as his eyes glinted.  Yondu hated to think it was probably the first excited noise he’d made his entire life.

Yondu took a deep breath and changed the subject so he didn’t have to think about it.  “The hoist is broken. But that’s okay; I’ll show you another way to get under there.” 

Peter sat back on his haunches so he could keep observing.  Yondu’s words jumbled inside his mind, but that was okay; Peter could connect the puzzle in his mind just from watching. 

By the time Yondu had taken Peter home long after he’d shut shop and night had fallen, Yondu felt confident he had a little mechanic in the making - Peter had worked so flawlessly on some of his old project cars, even Kraglin hadn’t learnt as easily as Peter had. 

If Yondu had ever needed any proof that Peter had smarts beneath all of that damage, he wouldn’t any longer; Peter had been broken, but Yondu was determined to build him back up. 

* * *

 

Peter didn’t usually spend so much time with his fingers in his mouth.  In fact, he’d never really done it until Yondu had taken him home. He knew he did it when he was scared, but now, he was finding himself doing the same thing as he watched curiously the way Yondu seemed to ever-so-carefully examine some sort of colourful stick.  

Yondu, who was standing in the hygiene aisle of Kroger so he could find a toothbrush for Peter, hummed to himself when he heard Kraglin call out to him from down the aisle.  He ignored Kraglin in favour of turning around to show Peter the toothbrush he was holding. 

“Okay, a toothbrush for ya.” Yondu threw the packet into his basket.  “We got toothpaste at home - we’ll brush your teeth for ya tonight before bed and try clean ‘em up a bit.  But it’s okay if we can’t; see how bad my teeth are, boy? You got nothin’ ta be ‘shamed ‘bout.” 

Peter’s eyes stayed focused on the toothbrush in the basket while Yondu’s attention was now on Kraglin.  He reached into the basket and ghosted his fingertips against the packet as his lips moved wordlessly, trying to get the name Yondu had just said on the tip of his tongue. 

“I got ‘im some ‘jamas.” Kraglin held out the blue pyjamas to show Yondu.  “And a hoodie.” 

Yondu nodded in approval.  “Find him some clothes for the day, too.  Imma take him ‘round the store and see if he don’t want anythin’.” 

By now, Peter was getting used to Yondu holding his hands - and honestly, he was starting to welcome it because as Yondu led him around this new, scary environment, he felt a tad safer with his hand clasped warmly in Yondu’s labour-roughened skin. 

“Okay…” Yondu stopped them in the breakfast aisle.  He gestured to the cereal boxes as he announced, “Breakfast.  Choose whatever you want.” 

Peter’s fingers never came out of his mouth until they’d gotten home - and even then, he still couldn’t help but watch Yondu curiously.  Just as he’d been taught to do, he sat quietly on the couch - but tonight, he didn’t keep his head down; he watched Yondu, his curiosity not yet sated. 

Yondu was different to what Peter knew.  Yondu was like those aliens he remembered his mother telling him about in bedtime stories, but Yondu wasn’t so scary anymore. Yondu was big and loud and mean-looking, but Yondu hadn’t hurt him yet - and that was exactly what both fascinated and frightened Peter because he didn’t know what to expect. 

But when Peter fell asleep on the couch not long after dinner, he’d woken again from nightmares through the night and found that, not only had Yondu left him a nightlight, but he’d put blankets over him. 

And that was how Peter came to learn that maybe… not  _ everyone  _ was like Ego. 


	4. Chapter 4

Peter liked Kraglin. He liked that Kraglin let him listen to his music, and he liked that Kraglin always showed him the moving pictures on the TV.  

But most of all, Peter liked Kraglin’s kitten.  

“I call ‘im The Abominable,” Kraglin had said the first time Peter had laid eyes on the black kitten.  When Peter’s lips moved wordlessly and his face twisted in anxiety, Kraglin stuttered quickly the first thing to come to mind at the boy’s tears.  “B-but you can call ‘im Burger!” 

As quickly as it had passed, the despair on Peter’s young face vanished as he sat on the couch, murmuring Burger over and over as if he were trying out the word on his tongue. 

Peter only ever had been able to call the kitten Burger, but the fact that he’d progressed to repeating simple words spoken to him was all that Kraglin cared about. 

“One more round?” Kraglin looked almost pleading as his eyes stayed longingly on the TV across from them.  “We almost got it - just gotta stop fallin’ off.” 

Peter hummed.  He was liking this new game - Mario, he thought he’d heard Kraglin say - but he knew it was time for lunch; Yondu always fed him at twelve.  He put his NES controller down onto the ground and pointed behind them to the kitchen. 

Kraglin understood the unspoken request; Peter had learnt routine with Yondu - and even though Peter barely ate, he still liked the normality he’d never known before. 

“I’m gonna heat us up some soup…” Kraglin murmured, his cheerful disposition replaced instead by clear lethargy.  His body was burdensome to lift from the couch, and with a heart even heavier, he dragged his feet to the kitchen. 

While Kraglin was gone, Peter pulled himself over to Burger and lifted him from where he’d been sleeping on the arm of the couch. Ever-so-gently, he cradled the kitten against his chest, as close to his heart as he could get, as his tiny fingers splayed their way through long, black fur. 

“Burger…” Peter whispered to himself, growing more and more confident with the word until his whispers grew clear. 

Kraglin came back after a while, but Peter missed the happy expression he usually donned while they were together; right now, Kraglin looked almost…  _ empty,  _ and Peter knew it didn’t suit the other. 

“Here you go, Petey…” Kraglin handed the boy one of the bowls before he sat back on the couch and folded his legs beneath him, but Peter wasn’t the only one who didn’t eat much; Kraglin also hardly touched his soup before he put it on the coffee table in rejection. 

“I’m gonna take a nap for a few minutes…” Kraglin murmured to Peter.  “You can keep playin’ Mario if you want…” 

Peter didn’t respond verbally; he only watched as Kraglin reached out and pulled a blanket from over the back of the couch and draped it over himself as he laid down.

Peter sighed wistfully to himself. He put his bowl of soup next to Kraglin’s before he pulled Burger back onto his lap and kept his attention on the kitten. 

But alas, now that Peter was left to his own thoughts, he felt his own exhaustion overwhelming him as dark memories played through his mind. 

Peter couldn’t cry, though. No matter what crossed his mind, Peter felt  _ numb.  _

He remembered words Yondu had told him once, when it had just been them at the shop because Kraglin hadn’t come in for work;  _ yep, Krag’s a lot like you, Pete - gets sad a lot, too. Told him to stay home and rest; got bad depression, he does.  _

Peter still didn’t know what depression was - he was still too scared to try and speak enough to find out- but from what he had pieced together, it was why he was always so tired and sad. 

It hurt to think that Kraglin might feel the same intense misery Peter knew.  In fact, the idea of it broke through Peter’s numb shield as he thought that Kraglin might have been hurt the way he had been, too. 

Peter’s heart hurt. His lips moved wordlessly as he sought to give Kraglin the comfort Yondu always had for him; with Burger still in his arms, Peter crawled along the couch until he was snuggled in close, hoping his comfort helped. 

But of course, Peter’s mind and heart were heavy, and when he took notice for the first time of the cuts poking out from under Kraglin’s sleeves, he couldn’t help but cry.  He  _ hated _ that someone else was hurting Kraglin the way  _ he  _ had been hurt; it made his heart ache and his chest heave with sadness as he tried to filter through the emotions he felt he was drowning in. 

Kraglin woke up to Peter sobbing his heart out.  Carefully, he wrapped his arm around the boy and held him loosely, never enough to make him feel restrained, but just enough for Peter to know he was there for him. 

“Have a nap…” Kraglin whispered. “You’ll feel better…” 

With that, Kraglin lifted the blankets and pulled them over Peter. He waited until the boy’s own eyes had closed before he allowed himself to drift back into sleep, ready to wake again if Peter were to need him.  

* * *

 

Peter awoke to voices from above him.  He blinked blearily as he tried to work out where he was, until finally he snapped to attention as he recognised Yondu’s voice. 

Soft, excited noises escaped Peter as he scrambled free of Kraglin’s arms in order to throw himself at Yondu and raise his own limbs into the air in request to be picked up. 

Yondu chuckled.  He took Peter into his arms and held him effortlessly before he spun around and gestured to two men standing behind him.  “Petey, this is Tullk and Horuz. They’re good friends of mine an’ came with me on my job.”

Peter flinched at the newcomers. His eyes teared up as he hid his face against Yondu’s chest, hoping it would be enough to hide from the two men who looked like they might eat him if given the chance. 

Yondu didn’t force anything, though; he carried Peter to the couch and sat next to Kraglin, holding the now-trembling Peter close. 

It seemed that the two men both got the memo that Peter was scared of them as they pretended not to notice him and instead focused their attention on Kraglin. 

Peter stayed safely in Yondu’s arms. He held his ear against the man’s calming heartbeat as he listened closely to the conversation around him. 

“You gonna be okay, Krag?” Yondu asked.  His tone sounded so strained, Peter felt his stomach do flip flops. “Ya wanna come stay with me?” 

Kraglin nodded.  His eyes were so empty, Peter felt his heart break.  

Peter extended his arms towards Kraglin and twisted his upper body to get closer.  Yondu passed him over to Kraglin, his heart warming at how sincerely happy and  _ relaxed  _ they both became at the embrace.  

“I gotta take Pete ta his appointment,” Yondu explained. “Ya wanna come with, Krag?” 

Kraglin shook his head. “...” 

“Right.” Yondu turned around to face the other two men. “You two stay here and keep ‘im company.  I’ll be back soon. C’mon, Pete.” 

Peter scrambled off Kraglin’s lap to chase after Yondu.  Once he’d caught up to his guardian, he slipped his tiny hand into Yondu’s huge one and relaxed.  He looked up at the man with adoration in his eyes and a tiny, shy smile that had so slowly grown over their three months together.  

Yondu said nothing until he’d gotten Peter into the car and got in himself.  When he spoke, he sounded as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.  “Kraglin was doin’ better…”

Peter didn’t understand.  Though it had become easier for him to grasp others’ words, his mind was still so shredded, he couldn’t quite comprehend meaning.  His mouth opened and closed wordlessly before he looked away to stare out of his window, not knowing how to approach this. 

Yondu continued.  “Krag likes ya ‘cause he understands ya - but that’s why he gets so sad; ‘cause he understands…  Don’t ever tell nobody, Pete, but he was hurt ‘lot like you.” 

Peter looked back to Yondu at those words.  His mouth moved wordlessly for a few seconds before he licked his lips and whispered, “Sad…” 

Yondu nodded.  “Yep, he’s sad…  Ev’ryone’s bit sad - ev’ryone hurts.   _ I _ hurt; it’s why I took ya when they were looking for a foster carer for ya.  I never had a home ‘till Stakar gave me one - gave me a chance to turn my life ‘round…  And I did when I found Krag… He was a bit older than ya, but he needed someone. Lookin’ after him really helped me a lot, boy…” 

Peter hummed.  He looked to his lap, not quite understanding; Yondu and Kraglin were so  _ nice _ …!  How was it possible they were so different to Ego…?  

“You make sure you let Krag look after ya, boy,” Yondu mumbled as he shifted through the gears.  “His big brother did some horrible stuff to him - he just wants to be the kind o’ brother he never had…” 

Peter didn’t respond; he was too busy thinking about how Kraglin always wanted to be with him, treating him so gently and showing him fun things.  Maybe Kraglin was lonely like  _ he  _ was?  Maybe Kraglin, too, was scared of people, and it was hard for him to be around everyone save only a select few? 

Peter licked his lips again.  His voice was so soft, so  _ breathy,  _ he could have passed for a ghostly tone.  “Yo’du…” 

Yondu hummed.  He took his eyes off the road to look at Peter.  “Yeah?” 

Peter raised his left arm into the air and pulled down his sleeve.  He dragged his finger across his wrist, hoping Yondu would understand what he was trying to say.  “Kag… Kag…” 

Yondu took a stuttering breath.  He pulled the car over onto the side of the road and pulled the handbrake up so he could reach across and wrap his hand around Peter’s tiny wrist.  He shook his head, and with his thumb ghosting up and down the soft, pale flesh, he almost  _ pleaded,  _ “Do  _ not  _ hurt yaself, boy…  You saw Krag’s wrists…?   _ Don’t  _ do what he does, Petey; no matter what, never hurt yaself…  Okay?” 

Peter nodded.  He accepted the one-armed embrace Yondu gave him quietly as his own fingers played with his wrist.  He always tried to be a good boy; he always did everything he was told to do - if Yondu told him not to hurt his wrists, then he wouldn’t.  

Peter only wanted to be told he was a good boy, after all. 

Nights at Yondu’s were  _ drastically  _ different than they had been with Ego, Peter acknowledged.  Whereas Ego would have chained Peter down to his bed for the night so he’d lay helplessly beneath him, Yondu liked to get a few beers from the fridge and kick back on the couch with the TV on and a newspaper open against his lap.  

Peter, also, liked these nights, because now that Yondu had taught him what a bath was, he enjoyed spending his time in the hot water, lounging back and relaxing until the water would run cold and Yondu would poke his head in to make sure he was still okay.  He’d never had a bath until Yondu took him - had never even known what a bath  _ was _ \- but every night when he’d get out and dress in his warm pyjamas, he felt  _ great _ .  

Like now, as he wandered out of the bathroom and into the living room to see where Yondu was.  He felt tension leave his body when he found Yondu in his favourite chair, and Kraglin laying on the couch as they watched a movie together.  

“Yo’du…?” Peter climbed up onto the chair to sit in Yondu’s lap.  His wide eyes stayed fixed on Yondu’s face as he curled in against the man’s warm chest, his tiny fingers curled tightly into his guardian’s jacket as he rested his head to Yondu’s heartbeat. 

“ _ Yondu _ ,” Yondu patiently corrected.  “Yondu.” 

“Yo’du,” Peter tried to mimic.  “Yo’du…” 

Yondu wasn’t bothered, really - there was a reason Peter was seeing a speech pathologist, after all.  Besides, the boy missing a syllable or two was better than him not speaking at all, and all he needed was time to unlearn the trained silence he’d been forced to live in for fourteen years.  

No; what  _ did  _ bother Yondu was the way Peter’s eyes were closing at eight o’clock at night.  

“Oi.  Petey.” Yondu shook Peter’s shoulder gently. “Don’t fall asleep yet; it’s still early.” 

Kraglin titled his head upside down to look at Yondu.  Quietly, he mumbled, “Why would he wanna be awake? He’s got nothin’ to live for, Yondu…”

Yondu sighed. He wrapped an arm around Peter and held him close, knowing that Kraglin was right; Peter had had so much stolen from him, why  _ would  _ he want to stay awake?  Sleep was probably a blessing for him, letting his mind shut off from the pain he knew so relentlessly. 

Yondu didn’t try and wake Peter again; he just held the boy until he himself went to bed hours later, wondering if Peter ever  _ would  _ find something to live for. 

But knowing the suffering Peter had been put through, Yondu didn’t hold high hopes


	5. Chapter 5

Therapy helped Peter, Yondu knew. Therapy helped him  _ a lot.  _

But with therapy, came the revelations Yondu couldn’t  _ believe  _ Peter’s mind hadn’t shattered beneath. 

“What are you listening to, Peter?” the  therapist asked, ever-so-kindly as she made a note on her clipboard.  “You must really love music; you are always listening to your Walkman every time I see you.” 

Peter hummed softly.  He looked down at his lap and held his Walkman closer as he squeezed his little fingers around Yondu’s thumb.  He nodded, but even so, he couldn’t lift his gaze to meet hers. “...” 

“What are you listening to?” Again, she scribbled notes down when Peter pretended not to hear her.  “May I listen?” 

Finally, Peter lifted his head.  He frowned deeply at her, his eyes filled with pain as he squeezed Yondu’s thumb so tightly, Yondu moved closer to him to comfort him.  His lips moved wordlessly, as if he were debating with himself internally over something, until finally, he slowly reached up and pulled his headphones off to pass to Yondu. 

Yondu put one side against his ear before he passed them back to Peter, knowing not to take them for too long lest the boy start to cry.  He looked back at the woman and murmured, “He likes that song; Hooked on a Feelin’.” 

“Did Yondu give you the Walkman?” The therapist prompted gently.  

Peter shook his head.  He took a few moments before he whispered, “M-mom…” 

“Your mother gave it to you?” She hummed when she received a nod in response.  “Did your mother leave your father?” 

Peter shook his head.  Yondu’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the way Peter’s fingers twitched at the question.  “...M-mom… H-hurt…” 

“Hurt?  Your father hurt her, Peter?” 

Peter’s fingers clawed suddenly at his forearm, his chest heaving and his pupils widening.  Yondu snatched his hand away before he hurt himself. “Don’t do that, boy. Don’t hurt yaself.” 

“Peter?” Carefully, the therapist approached the subject.  “Did your father do something to your mother?” 

Peter’s body convulsed violently as a panic attack consumed him.  Tears rolled down his cheeks as he squealed, trying to break free of the hold Yondu was holding him in.  But as quickly as it had started, Peter’s panic attack broke, and he lay slumped against Yondu, sobbing freely as if his mind had almost completely shut itself off.  

“Peter?” She slid a sketchbook and some pencils across the table between them towards Peter.  “Draw for me what you were just thinking about, please.” 

Peter struggled.  Yondu helped him as much as he could, but still…  

In the end, he struggled even to explain his drawing to everyone.  

“Car…” Peter whispered, pointing to the big black square in one corner of the picture.  His finger moved to the stick figure in the middle of the page, surrounded by red. His eyes overflowed again, and his voice trembled as he whispered, “M-mom…” 

“Petey…” Yondu held his breath as Peter pointed to the second stick figure, right next to his mother.  

“...” Peter took a deep breath as his entire body shook.  “...P-peter…” 

Yondu knew nothing like this had been on Peter’s reports.  The only thing that  _ had  _ been mentioned about Peter’s mother was that she’d been reported as missing years ago.  He was starting to understand though; Peter was trying to tell them he’d watched his mother die.  “Pete…” 

“Where is your father in this picture?” The therapist asked.  

Peter gasped sharply before he grabbed another pencil and added a third stick figure in the background.  He pointed to it, murmuring ‘Dad…’ softly, before he added a small, straight line next to him. He tapped at it, but his lips moved wordlessly, as if he struggled to find the right name for what he’d just drawn.

Yondu took a pencil, and purely out of suspicion, he drew a knife.  “Is this what you mean, Pete?” 

Peter nodded.  He whimpered loudly.  “...” 

“Why is there a car in the picture?  Did he do something with the car?” More notes were scribbled down.

Peter nodded.  He scribbling between the car and the two stick figures before he smacked his hands together.  He didn’t need to speak it; they understood Peter’s mother had been ran over. 

“Peter, will you go and sit in the waiting room?” The therapist requested.  Peter obeyed, waiting outside, and with him out of earshot, she turned to Yondu.  “I will report this to the police today. It’s no wonder his mind is as broken as it is.” 

Yondu’s shoulders heaved with a heavy sigh.  “You’ll have police all up in his face quizzin’ him over it…”

“I know, and I agree he is not of a healthy enough mind to be able to cope with it - but legally I  _ have  _ to report this…” She sighed as well.  “Peter’s mind can still be healed - but with how damaged he is, it’s no surprise he acts much younger than he physically is.  He is stuck at a very young age mentally and emotionally because he’s never  _ learnt  _ anything but abuse.  He’s been so neglected, his mind  _ could not  _ age with his development because he’s missed so many milestones.” 

Yondu scratched his stubbled chin in contemplation.  “He’s been doin’ better than when I first got ‘im, though.  He’s learnin’ - slowly.” 

“Yes, he  _ can  _ learn - but you have to  _ teach  _ him.  He’s going to need such an intense therapy regime, you will have to help him reinforce much of it at home.  For now, take him home and let him get some rest; it is no wonder he’s as depressed as he is with the kind of memories he keeps suppressed.” 

Yondu nodded.  He stood up and thanked the therapist for her time before he left the office to gather Peter up.  He paid for the session and took Peter to buy him lunch before they made their way back to the garage to finish the day’s work.  

But Peter, who usually loved going to the garage and helping Yondu and Kraglin, certainly didn’t like it when Yondu’s friends were around.

Peter stayed back, away from the group gathered together in a corner of the shop.  It frightened him to not know what they were doing; they weren’t near any cars, and with their backs turned to him, it was hard to see what they were doing - but whatever it was, they were  _ loud _ ; laughing raucously and throwing their fists up in the air as they cheered at something unseen.  

Peter looked back at Yondu to see where he was.  Part of him felt a tiny bit better to know that Yondu was ignoring them in favour of looking over one of the cars that had been lowered down from the hoist; surely if Yondu wasn’t worried, everything was fine… 

And truly, Yondu  _ didn’t  _ care - not until something went bang and the group fell deadly silent as they casually walked away, the very picture of innocence.

“The hell are you morons doin’ over there?!” Yondu’s shout cut through the silence.  “Idiots! The lot of ya! Breakin’ my damn shelves!” 

Peter almost felt nervous at the sudden temper Yondu was sporting - but that was  _ until  _ he heard the cackles of laughter amongst the other men, and Kraglin’s raised voice telling them to listen to Yondu. 

It wasn’t laughter like Ego’s, Peter knew. It was the same kind of laughter Kraglin shared with him when they watched the movies that made Peter smile, and when they played their video games and they kept messing up. 

Peter cocked his head to the side.  Yondu was laughing as well - did that mean he wasn’t  _ really  _ mad?  At least… not the kind of mad that Ego was…? 

He took a tentative step forward, but he froze when a set of eyes fixed on him, and the man he knew Yondu referred to as Gef called his name loudly. 

“Pete!” Gef stomped over to him and enthusiastically reached out to grab him. He ignored Peter’s frightened squeal and held him above an engine bay of one of the cars.  “You have tiny hands; put your hand in and get my socket out; it fell in there earlier.” 

The crowd gathered again, and as harmless as their intentions were as they chanted Peter’s name encouragingly, Peter was still scared. 

Yondu, from where he stood with his hands clenched by his side, sneered as his eyes narrowed.  He grabbed Kraglin’s shoulder none-too-gently as he hissed, “He grabs my boy again, I’m gonna kill him…  I don’t trust him...” 

Kraglin opened his mouth to respond, but he shut it when Yondu stormed through the group and snatched Peter away. 

“Get your own damn socket out,” Yondu growled as he passed Peter to Horuz. “You tell him to put his hands past an engine again and I’ll make sure you lose some fingers, too.” 

Horuz, who could feel the way Peter was shaking against him, moved away from the excitement and into an isolated corner of the shop to get him away from Yondu’s loud scolding. He sat Peter down, knowing how pissed Yondu was - and for good reason; he hadn’t felt good at the way Gef had grabbed Peter, either. 

Peter was upset.  Horuz sighed. He reached into his pocket, trying to find something to distract the boy with - but all he’d found was some chewing gum and a few coins. 

But hey; it was better than nothing, right? 

“Wanna play a game?” Horuz balanced a coin on the back of his hand, knowing to be careful with Peter as the boy still didn’t know him too well.  “Heads or tails. What’s it going to land on?” 

Peter sniffled before he reached forward and flipped the coin upside down in response.  He watched warily as the coin was flipped, but though it took several minutes, Peter got closer and closer until he no longer had to lean across to turn the coin around. His expression wasn’t so sad or fearful anymore - in fact, Horuz suspected he was starting to see a hint of a smile, the first smile he’d received from Peter so far. 

* * *

 

“You know, if you keep sleepin’ so much, you’re goin’ to miss out on a lot.” 

Peter’s eyelids cracked open from where he’d curled up in the office, trying so hard to fall asleep on the desk chair with his head on the desk.  He hummed softly, but he didn’t keep his eyelids open; he just closed them again in hopes that sleep would come soon. 

Yondu sighed. “Pete.  C’mon; don’t go to sleep.  It’s five - ya gotta try stay ‘wake.” 

It was one of the rare occasions Peter didn’t seem willing to listen to Yondu; he scrunched his eyes shut tighter and whined, trying to pull away from the hand tugging at his shoulder.  

Yondu didn’t know what to do - well, he  _ did,  _ but he didn’t know  _ how  _ to do it.  Kraglin was right; Peter had nothing to live for, no reason to  _ want  _ to keep his eyes open, but how could Yondu remedy that?  He wanted to take Peter out and teach him to enjoy life, but if he did so, he’d only make Peter more fearful at being pushed around society so much.  

But at the same time, leaving him here to sleep his life away… 

Yondu shook his head.  He called Kraglin into the office and instructed him to call their friends and inform them that Yondu was taking time off to be with Peter, knowing his boy needed him more than the garage did.  

“You’re in charge while I’m gone, Krag.” Yondu clapped Kraglin’s shoulder and squeezed as he lifted Peter into a one-armed hug.  “Don’t let no one walk over ya.” 

With that, Yondu was gone, determined to do whatever he could to get Peter out of his pit.  

  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

“He’s cute.”

“And more… _outgoing,_ than you’d had us believe.”

Yondu chewed at his bottom lip in unconcealed jealousy as he watched the way Peter clambered all over his own mother figure.  He turned his nose up in the air stubbornly and bit out, “Yeah - just _wait_ til _you_ try go near him, Stakar…”  

Stakar, the same man who had helped Yondu turn his life around from a petty street criminal, couldn’t help but smirk at the challenge.  He moved closer to his wife, slowly now that Peter’s wide eyes were watching him warily, until he was close enough to extend his hand and brush his fingertips through the soft hair beneath him.  Peter’s body tensed, but he didn’t pull away - in fact, he leant into the touch after a few moments.

Stakar smirked at Yondu as he flattened his palm against Peter’s head and stroked.  “You were saying, Yondu?”

Yondu snorted and looked away to hide the burning jealousy in his eyes.  Under his breath, he mumbled, “Yeah, hope he fuckin’ bites ya finger off, Ogord…”

From beside Stakar, Aleta looked down fondly at the boy curled up in her lap, trying his damned hardest to get as close to her as he possibly could.  She could hear him whispering disjointedly to himself as he splayed his fingers out in front of him, but she said nothing about it; Yondu had already filled them both in on Peter’s condition.  “He needs a mother, Yondu. He’s desperate to be close to a woman; you saw him when he first came in here - all over me like a newborn kitten.”

Yondu clicked his tongue.  He crossed his arms against his chest and leant further into his chair as he glared pointedly at the wall behind his parental figures.  He muttered to himself again before he growled out, “Can’t ‘xactly give ‘im that, can I? Can’t grow a pair o’ tits - that’s _you_.”

“You’re jealous, Udonta.” Stakar’s smirk widened.  “Jealous he likes Aleta more than you.”

“Nah, just pissed off with ya, Ogord - takin’ my boy from me already…” Yondu snorted again.  “S’posed be _me_ he likes most…”

Aleta wrapped her arms around Peter, holding him close as he played with the black strands of hair falling down past her chest.  Her smile was amused, but there was still a softness to her as she regarded the obvious disdain on Yondu’s face. “From what you’ve told us, he’s only coming near us because of _you,_ Yondu.”

Yondu’s scowl faltered, and confusion crossed his features instead.  “What you mean…?”

“Well, a little boy who’s been through hell and back without his mother would never trust strangers like this,” Aleta reminded.  “He’s learnt to trust you enough to trust your _judgement_ \- and if you trust us, that’s good enough for him.”

Yondu hummed to himself.  He scratched his wrist self-consciously as he shrugged.  “He don’t really like my friends, though. Well, he loves Krag.  But my other friends, he still don’t really trust.”

“You hang around a loud crowd; I don’t blame him,” Stakar offered.  “Who knows what the poor boy’s been through - if I were him, I wouldn’t be comfortable with loud situations, either.”

“He don’t like Gef,” Yondu said quickly.  He sighed as his concerns rose to the surface.  “To be honest, I don’t trust Gef with him, but… Pete’s doin’ better with e’ryone else - just…  He _really_ don’t like Gef.  Claws and hisses at him like a feral cat.”

Stakar and Aleta shared looks with each other before Aleta murmured, “There may be good reason for that, Yondu…  This sweet little boy couldn’t _possibly_ claw at anyone…”

“He does.” Yondu sniffed.  “He does; he… Though Krag don’t like Gef, either…  Don’t like bein’ left alone ‘round him…”

Stakar’s eyes narrowed.  Firmly, he suggested, “I’d be keeping a better eye on your employees, Yondu; nothing good will come of Gef.”

Yondu grunted.  He glared down at his lap as he pondered those words.  He’d never really trusted Gef; he’d always had a weird feeling about him, truthfully - but the thing was, Gef had never outright done or said anything to warrant such feelings.  

But sometimes, when he was at work and it had just been Gef and Kraglin out the back, Yondu’s heart twisted at the way Kraglin would come into the office, so damned _quiet_ and _timid_ as he’d ask for permission to go home.  

Yondu was just glad he’d wisened up over the years and stopped leaving vulnerable Kraglin alone with the fucker - and _Peter_ …  

Yondu would drink rat poison before he’d _dare_ leave Peter alone with Gef.  

“What have you got?”

Yondu lifted his head at Aleta’s gentle tone.  His expression melted at the way Peter was holding up his Walkman, showing it to her so damn shyly, Yondu wanted to hold him and protect him from the world for the rest of his life.  

Aleta knew not to touch the Walkman - especially not after Peter had found enough trust to even show it to her in the first place - so instead, she murmured, “What is your favourite song, Peter?”

Peter pulled the Walkman back to his body so he could fiddle with it.  Finally, once he had found the song he was looking for, he passed the headphones to Aleta so she could listen.  “...”

The utter kindness Aleta displayed to Peter in that moment shattered Yondu’s heart.  “Why don’t you sing it for me, Peter? I bet you have a lovely little voice.”

Peter’s cheeks went so red, even his ears looked ripe.  Shyly, so shyly, he shook his head as he looked to his lap.  “...”

“I’ll sing with you,” Aleta promised.  “Listen, okay? _Brandy, you’re a fine girl~_ Sing it with me, Peter.”

Peter lifted his head to give a nervous look to Yondu and Stakar.  Aleta understood the unspoken message, so she didn’t hesitate to shoo both men out of the living room so Peter could feel more comfortable.

“He doesn’t want to sing around you two; go away.” The shooing motions Aleta made at the two were playful, so they didn’t mind relocating to the kitchen.  

It was while Stakar stood in front of the fridge to get two cans of beer out did he say, “You did a good thing taking that boy in.  He’s damaged, Yondu. Badly damaged. But I can see how hard you’ve been trying to piece him back together. It won’t be easy, but don’t give up on him - I can see that he likes you so much, it would destroy him for you to abandon him.”

Yondu nodded.  He listened to Aleta’s soft voice flowing in through the open doorway until he was caught by surprise at the tiny, _tiny_ little voice mumbling along with hers.  “Hell, she actually got him to sing. He barely says two words to me but he’s damn singin.”

“He’s mimicking, really,” Stakar pointed out.  “He’s curious.”

That made sense; Yondu usually did hear Peter mimicking lines from the movies he’d watch, but he’d mumble so disjointedly beneath his breath, it often didn’t make any sense.  

This… was the most sense Yondu had ever heard Peter make.  

“Like I said…” Stakar cracked open his can, “...he really likes you - for good reason.”

* * *

 

_‘There’s a port~ on a western bay~’_

_Peter’s mouth hung open in glee as he listened to his mother sing their favourite song to him.  His hands clapped together childishly, rattling the chains that had just been loosened for him to move around a little, as he hummed along to her words so the lyrics chased away the agony his six-year-old body was enduring._

_Meredith Quill’s hands stroked through Peter’s grimy hair sticky with drying blood as comfortingly as she could while she continued singing.  She leant further onto the bed so she could reach across her son and adjust the length of the chains that kept him bound to the bed she was powerless to remove, trying to give him as much freedom as she possibly could.  Just as he always did, Peter tried his damned hardest to move through the pain and roll himself closer to his mother to rest his head in her lap. As hard as she tried to display nothing but calmness, it was hard to bite back the anxiety she felt at knowing her husband kept their son chained up like an animal to keep her there with Ego._

_She sniffed back tears as she dropped her hand to caress Peter’s lacerated cheek as tenderly as she could.  “Don’t you worry, sweetie; one day mommy is gonna get us out of here. We’ll go somewhere daddy can’t find us - it’ll just be you and me, honey.  I promise.”_

_Peter’s lips moved wordlessly for a few moments before he whispered, “Mommy…?  I wanna… feed chickens…”_

_Mary moved her hand back to her son’s hair.  “I’ll ask daddy when he comes home tonight if he’ll let you outta these chains for the morning, sweetheart.  We can feed the chickens, and I’ll show you the pigs a-and -”_

_Mary’s voice faltered when she saw headlights through Peter’s bedroom window, coming down the long, winding driveway from the main road that led to their farm.  She gulped heavily as she made sure the blanket was tight around her son’s naked, broken body - as if hiding it from Ego would deter him from anything he might do otherwise._

_“It’s okay, baby…” Mary fought the tears, but it wasn’t enough to keep them at bay.  “D-daddy’s home… I-I’ll ask him about the chickens, okay, baby…? I-I’m sure he’ll say yes; I know d-daddy loves you, baby…”_

_Peter_ hated _seeing his mother cry.  Tears of his own welled up in his eyes as he felt a crushing weight in his chest that hadn’t been there until he’d recognised the fright on Mary’s face.  He cried loudly, but no matter how desperately Mary tried to shush him, he couldn’t stop; there was too much emotion overwhelming him, and he didn’t even understand where it had all come from._

_“S-shh, baby!  Please!” Mary’s tears came harder as she hugged Peter tight.  “H-he’ll h-hear you, sweetie!”_

_The car door slammed shut from outside.  Loud, stomping footsteps crashed their way through the gravel and up the wooden verandah until the front door was slammed shut as well._

_“Mary!” came the irate scream Mary_ hated _so much.  “Mary, what have I told you about him crying?!”_

_“Baby,_ please _!” Mary begged desperately in one last bid to silence Peter._

_The bedroom door was kicked open, and in the doorway stood Ego.  Peter’s sobs advanced to screams of horror as his tiny body thrashed and writhed against the chains that kept him bound by his wrists and ankles.  His blankets became wet with urine as terror consumed his tiny mind, growing more and more as he heard Ego hit his mother over and over again as she begged him to leave Peter alone._

_“Daddy, no!” Peter howled.  “Daddy! Daddy!”_

_“Shut up, you little -” Ego’s strong fingers tightened around Peter’s throat._

_“Daddy!  Daddy!” Peter let out his final screams before they were choked into silence._

_And that… was when Peter’s eyes snapped open again._

* * *

 

Aleta felt Peter’s body jolt on her lap.  She looked down at him questioningly, but she didn’t say anything about it; Yondu and Stakar had left an hour ago to drink at the bar, leaving Aleta with Peter, and the last thing she wanted was to set him off without Yondu around.

It’d been unexpected, to say the least, to feel Peter start trembling so violently with no reason for him to be doing so.  They’d been watching the TV, in a comfortable silence as the cartoons seemingly kept Peter’s eyes fixed on the screen.

But whatever was going on inside Peter’s fragile mind wasn’t pleasant, Aleta realised when she felt wetness on her lap.  Her eyes fixed on the urine stain in Peter’s pants. “Oh, poor baby…”

Aleta didn’t know what Peter was thinking about - truthfully, she didn’t _want_ to know - but whatever it was, Peter was doing well to hold it all back behind an almost convincing blank expression, broken only by his trembling body and fearful reactions.  

She opened her mouth to speak, but when Peter curled up closer to her, snuggling as far into her arms as he could so he could close his eyes and try to sleep, Aleta shut her mouth again.  

She sighed.  “Peter… What are we going to do with you…?”

Peter didn’t respond; he only kept his eyes shut as he forced himself into the oblivion he so welcomed.  


	7. Chapter 7

“Krag…?” 

Kraglin looked down at the tug on his sleeve.  He smiled at Peter, not surprised the boy was clinging so tightly to his leg as they walked through the crowds of people gathered around them.  He felt uncomfortable, out of place and awkward as he walked around with no idea where he was even supposed to  _ be _ .

But  _ Peter _ …  

Peter must have been feeling ten times worse than  _ he  _ was. 

“What is it, Pete…?” Kraglin asked softly.  He dropped his hand to Peter’s hair, ruffling the soft brown beneath his palm. 

Peter fidgeted with his pants as he whispered, “G-gotta…  Gotta go… bathroom…” 

Kraglin nodded.  He took Peter’s tiny wrist and led him towards the back of the event hall, hoping they’d get to the toilets in time; while Peter  _ was  _ learning to tell someone when he needed to go, he still had trouble identifying just  _ how  _ badly he needed to go.  

They made it in time, though, to Kraglin’s relief; neither of them were in the mood for anything other.  Kraglin sighed as he waited outside Peter’s stall, cursing Yondu and all the man’s worry for him.

Kraglin wasn’t big on socialising - but he supposed that was part of why Yondu had encouraged him to join an astronomy club, knowing it to be one of his biggest interests.  Kraglin had caved, wanting to make Yondu proud of him and worry less. 

Somehow, he’d found himself bringing Peter along - damaged, scared little Peter who had, just the day before, bit Gef’s finger so hard, he had to leave to get stitches.  Kraglin just supposed Yondu was only human and needed a rest. 

“You okay in there, Pete?” Kraglin called as he pulled out a sheet of paper from his pocket.  So he was group five, was he…? Where the  _ hell  _ was he supposed to  _ be _ ? 

“Yes…” Peter’s voice was so soft, so  _ nervous _ , but that was okay; all that mattered was he was talking to people a little more.  

Kraglin felt his anxiety grow when he and Peter finally left the bathroom and joined the crowds once again, but to his relief, he finally found where he was supposed to be.  It was easier for him to sit down amongst two females; his anxiety lowered, and he could outstretch his hand and introduce himself. 

“Kraglin.” Kraglin’s eyes trailed down to Peter, who’d pulled himself up onto his lap and snuggled in close once they’d sat down.  “And this is my little brother, Petey.” 

“Gamora.” The red-headed woman who shook his hand couldn’t have been much younger than his own twenty years; she looked like she was eighteen, perhaps a little younger.  “And my friend, Mantis.” 

“Very nice to meet you~” The other girl seemed younger than Gamora, Kraglin noted, but the way she seemed so genuinely happy to meet them put Kraglin at ease - hell, she even put her hand out for shy Peter to shake.  

Gamora seemed the dominant one out of the two as she relaxed in her chair and spoke in a strong, confident tone.  “There’s usually more of us, but our friend, Drax, is sick, and my sister is away.” 

Kraglin relaxed further.  He kept his arms wrapped loosely around Peter’s waist as his own tone became stronger with each passing minute.  He became so enthralled in their conversations about space, he barely noticed the way Peter would inch forward more and more until his spine was bent and he was reaching out to brush his fingertips against Gamora’s hair.  

Peter smiled at the soft touch beneath his fingers.  He let out a pleased, stuttery breath, remembering how much he loved playing with his mother’s hair.  “...” 

It was Mantis who took notice of Peter first.  Her grin was bright as she pointed to him and exclaimed, “He is happy now~!” 

Kraglin grunted as he pulled Peter away.  He gave a deep frown as he murmured, “Sorry ‘bout that…  He likes hair…” 

There was fondness in Gamora’s eyes as she observed the pout on Peter’s face.  She shook her head. “It’s fine; don’t worry about it. He can play with it.” 

Warily, Kraglin let go of his hold on Peter so the boy could wander back to Gamora.  He was glad that Aleta had taken to caring for him throughout the week for Yondu because she’d truly helped him come out of his shell around people.  

Peter stood by Gamora’s side, threading his fingers through her hair for several moments until he hoisted himself up onto her lap and wrapped his arms around her neck with a happy sound.  

“He is so adorable~!” Mantis cooed.  She looked at Kraglin with her wide, excited eyes.  “Can I hug him?” 

“Uhh…” Kraglin scratched his cheek in uncertainty before he shrugged.  “Sure… If he lets ya…” 

To Kraglin’s surprise - and Yondu’s disbelief when Kraglin would tell him the next day - Peter allowed the embrace.  In fact, he returned it with such childish glee, Kraglin could have almost forgotten about Peter’s past and believed he was just a normal child having a great time.

“Kraglin, Kraglin!” Hell, even the excited pitch in Peter’s voice was almost alien to Kraglin.  Peter was looking over his shoulder at his brother-figure, his eyes shining and his headphones sliding around his neck as he  _ vibrated  _ excitement.  He pointed to his chest as he announced confidently, “Peter!” 

Kraglin cracked an affectionate smile.  “Yeah, I know, Petey. Tell your new friends.” 

Peter shook his head, and still with his thumb pointed at himself, he again announced, “Peter!” 

Kraglin grinned now as he looked at Gamora and Mantis.  “He wants ya to know ‘is name’s Peter. Also, I think you’ve unleashed ‘im; he likes talkin’ to girls.” 

Gamora chuckled.  “Lady’s man, huh? I can tell; he’s going to grow up popular with them.” 

“Eh, he likes ‘em better than guys.” Kraglin shrugged.  “Feels safer ‘round ‘em, I guess.” 

Peter licked his lips before he finally looked back to Gamora.  With his arms around her neck once more, he grinned and exclaimed, “Gamora!” 

Gamora nodded patiently, and when Peter did the same for Mantis, she clapped her hands happily.  

“He is like a big puppy~” Mantis’ excitement seemed only to continue to mount.  “He is so  _ cute  _ and I want to keep him~!” 

Kraglin chuckled.  “He  _ is  _ cute, ain’t ‘e?  He’s my friend’s pride an’ joy.” 

But of course, no matter how long Peter wanted to cling to his new friends, it couldn’t last forever; soon enough, they were both giving him hugs farewell as they got ready to go home for the night.  

Kraglin carried Peter out to the car, knowing how over-excited the boy was for once.  Even during the car ride home, he quivered happily as he bounced all over his seat, talking Kraglin’s ear off for once. 

If Kraglin had thought Peter was outgoing in the car, it was nothing compared to when they got back to Yondu’s. 

“Yondu, Yondu!” Peter  _ zoomed  _ through the house in search of his foster father, and when he found the man, he clung to his leg tightly as he gushed, “Yo’du, P-peter meet people!  Red hair! And black hair! And red! Red, Yo’du!” 

Yondu put his hand on the small of Peter’s back as he looked fondly down at the boy.  “That’s good, Pete; yer makin’ friends. But look what I got for ya; found him in a car at work today.” 

Kraglin followed Yondu into the dining room out of curiosity, wondering what it was Yondu was talking about - but when he watched as the man presented Peter with a raccoon so young, its eyes were still closed, he didn’t know what to say.

“You gonna help me look after him, boy?” Yondu asked.  “He’s yours if ya want him. But he’s a baby, so ya gotta be very careful with him, ‘kay?” 

Peter nodded vigorously as he held the raccoon close to his heart.  He rambled again as his little feet worked to keep up with Yondu’s giant strides as the man moved into the kitchen to teach Peter how to feed the raccoon.  

Kraglin followed, but it wasn’t to stick around; after such a big night, he wanted to go home to bed.  “Hey, uh… N-night, Yondu… Night, Petey…” 

“Night, Krag.” Yondu glanced at Kraglin, nodding his thanks at him for looking after Peter.  He turned his attention back to Peter. “Okay. We gotta feed ‘im. We’re gonna make him his dinner, ‘kay?  Make sure ya watch so ya can feed ‘im in the mornin’.” 

Peter bounced on the balls of his feet eagerly.  “Feed him, Yondu! Feed him!”

“Good boy.” Yondu patted Peter’s head.  “We’ll feed him, and then it’s time for sleep for ya.  ‘Kay?”

Peter nodded happily.  “Okay, Yo’du.” 

Yondu chuckled.  He’d have to remember to thank Aleta for bringing Peter this far - but then again, maybe not; Peter talked too much when he was happy, and he was blaming that one on Aleta.  

* * *

 

_ “It’s beautiful, Peter.”  _

_ Peter grinned brightly as his mother smiled down at the chain of flowers he’d just made.  He squealed happily when Mary leant across to hug him, careful not to squish his precious flowers as he returned the embrace.  He stayed still when he felt his mother threading her own daisies into his hair, but on the inside, he was quivering with so much love for his mom, he never wanted to take them out of his hair again.  “Mommy! I make some for daddy.”  _

_ Mary winced at her son’s excitement.  No words could have ever conveyed the pain she felt at Peter’s innocence, afraid for the day it would finally break and Peter would truly suffer - but for now, she wanted to keep him as innocent for as long as she possibly could. _

_ “Y-yes…” Mary forced a smile onto her face.  “I’m sure daddy’ll love that, baby…”  _

_ As if Ego had known someone was talking about him, the front door of the farmhouse swung open, and Ego glared down at them, still sitting in the garden bed and frollicking in the lush flowers.  “...”  _

_ As soon as Peter caught sight of his father, he jumped to his feet and and carried his second-most-favourite flower he had picked specially for Ego over to him.  His face held all the features of the toddler he was, but the love and excitement couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.  _

_ Despite Peter’s expression, his sudden trembling and hesitancy to get too close to the man would have had outsiders looking twice out of concern.  _

_ Peter stopped in front of Ego as he held his flower out to the man, as if he were presenting something delicate.  “Daddy!”  _

_ Ego knelt down.  His hand closed gently around Peter’s as he observed the flower.  A smile crossed his face, and Peter’s excitement grew when he accepted the gift.  “For me, son?”  _

_ Peter nodded excitedly.  His hands wrung together as he watched Ego examine the gift - but his entire being faltered as he watched his father tear the flower apart.  He whimpered, his eyes brimming with tears. “D-daddy…”  _

_ Ego dropped the flower to the verandah and scuffed his boot over it for good measure.  With that, he reached out and put his hand on Peter’s cheek as he smiled again, his other hand slowly plucking the daisies from his hair to meet the same fate.  His smile widened at the violent cringe Peter made at the touch. “Did I say you could go acting like a fool amongst  _ flowers _ , Peter?”  _

_ Peter didn’t understand the question, but he understood the harsh slap to his face that left pain in his neck from the force of his head snapping to the side.  He tried to run back to his mother, but Ego held his wrist so tightly, he cried at the pain it was inflicting. “Mommy!” _

_ “Ego, let him go!” Mary was on her feet, but she knew how powerless she was against her husband; too often she’d tried to stop him, only to be the one beaten into the ground.  _

_ But still, she loved her son with all her heart, and she couldn’t bear for him to be hurt.  _

_ “ _ Mommy _!” Peter screamed in horror as he watched his mother hit the ground. “ _ Mom _!”  _

_ “You see, Peter?!” Ego roared. “This is _ your fault  _ because you can’t be a  _ good boy! _ ”  _

_ The tears rolled down Peter’s face as he screamed and screamed until his voice faded, but it wasn’t enough; it still couldn’t wake him from this nightmare.  _

* * *

 

Peter jerked awake in horror.  Silent tears escaped his eyes as he threw his wet blankets from his body and got up from the couch.  His tiny feet padded across the ground as he stumbled to Yondu’s bedroom and threw the door open. 

The mattress squeaked under Peter’s weight as he clambered onto the bed, willingly for the first time in so many years. “Yo’du…” 

Yondu didn’t wake, but that was okay; Peter curled up into the man’s arms, waiting for his body to stop shaking and the memories to fade. 


	8. Chapter 8

Peter didn’t like Gef.  It wasn’t fear or distrust or anything else he’d displayed towards Yondu’s other friends; it was pure, heartfelt dislike.  

Gef reminded Peter of Ego.  While it would have been true six months ago that  _ everyone  _ reminded Peter of Ego in one way or another, it wasn’t true  _ now _ , and Gef was the first person in months that made his stomach churn and his body tremble in resentment.  

Peter suspected Yondu knew of his feelings because Yondu rarely made any attempt to stop Peter from clawing out at Gef like a feral cat whenever the man got too close to him.  

But of course, while Yondu felt the same way towards Gef, there was little he could do about it; Gef hadn’t done anything Yondu could pull him up for - but regardless, there was a reason Yondu didn’t want Gef around Peter at all.  

“Yondu…?” 

Yondu looked away from the paperwork he’d been going over.  He nodded at the door to the office, signalling Kraglin to come in and close it behind him.  He was alarmed by the reserved, almost anxious tone Kraglin had called him with. “You okay, Krag?” 

Kraglin nodded slowly, but the uncomfortable expression he wore told Yondu Kraglin felt anything  _ but  _ okay.  He twisted his hands together and looked at his feet for a few moments before he finally shuffled forward to sit before Yondu.  “...”

“Krag.” Yondu’s tone became serious.  “What’s wrong?” 

Kraglin licked his lips before he mumbled, “I don’t wanna work with Gef…” 

Yondu raised his eyebrow.  He’d been off work for a long while, staying home with Peter and leaving Kraglin in charge - and with how long Kraglin had been working with Gef already, the fact that he was coming to Yondu  _ now  _ with problems concerned him.  “What, he do somethin’ ta ya, Krag?” 

Kraglin nodded.  He looked at his lap again, hesitating before he murmured, “He’s makin’ me real uncomfortable…  He keeps…  _ grabbin’  _ me, and he -” 

Whatever Kraglin had been about to reveal vanished from the tip of his tongue when the door was almost knocked down in Tullk’s haste to enter.  Yondu opened his mouth to shout, to tell Tullk to get out and come back when he was done with Kraglin, but the worry in Tullk’s eyes were what stopped him. 

“Why’d you let that guy take Pete for lunch?” Tullk demanded.  His eyes were narrowed, and he looked more pissed than Yondu had ever seen him.  “Gef’s a  _ creep _ !” 

Yondu’s mouth hung open as he processed the words.  “Wha’... I didn’t - That bastard took my  _ boy _ ?!  The hell you hangin’ around here for - go after him!” 

Yondu had his entire workshop emptied within seconds, leaving just him and Kraglin still in the office.  Yondu trembled with rage as he grabbed his phone and texted Stakar, telling him what had happened. With that, he put his phone in his pocket and grabbed Kraglin’s shoulder, snarling, “When I get my hands on Gef, he’s only gonna  _ wish _ he were dead…” 

* * *

 

Peter felt dizzy. Dizzy, frightened, and lonely. The lightheaded feeling increased as he spun around on the spot, his mouth so dry, it was almost numb as he realised he’d  _ never  _ been around so many people at once before. 

Peter didn’t know where he was; just that Gef had taken him none too gently by the wrist and told him Yondu had instructed Gef to take Peter out for lunch. 

But Gef  _ hadn’t  _ taken him to get food; Gef had shoved him in the car and driven him so far out of town, he’d been terrified Yondu had gotten sick of him and was giving him back to Ego. 

Except, that hadn’t happened, and instead he was circled by so many men, Peter’s young mind couldn’t keep up with it all. 

“Someone kick it!” came a roar from within the crowd. Peter didn’t even see the attack coming until he’d been knocked to the ground. 

Another kick came, this time to Peter’s stomach.  He felt like he could throw up from how winded he was, but they didn’t stop there; they poured bottles of beer all over Peter, soaking him to the bone in alcohol.  

The fear had vanished. At least, it felt that way, and instead, Peter was overwhelmed by anger so strong, his hands shot up and gripped at his hair to pull viciously at it.  His eyes were murderously cold, and he bit at his lip so hard, blood rolled down his chin and filled his mouth. 

And then, Peter  _ snapped _ .  With a chilling scream  _ far  _ too bitter and tormented for such a young boy, Peter leapt forward and dug his claws into Gef’s wrist so savagely, thin droplets of blood dribbled through lengthy cuts that hadn’t been there only moments ago.  His teeth sunk into the labour-hardened flesh, spilling more blood, but he didn’t relent; he kept himself anchored to Gef as his little legs kicked out violently and his hands clawed at any part of Gef he could reach.  

“Get him off!” Gef roared as he punched and pulled to try and free himself, but Peter was too vicious, screaming and snarling like a rabid dog set on mauling everything in its sight.  “Get him the hell off!” 

Peter didn’t let go - not until Gef had reached to his side and grabbed an unopened beer bottle from the table and smashed it down onto his head.  The boy fell, laying still on the floor, concussed and barely conscious of the blood pooling around his head. He felt people kicking him again, pouring more beer over his face and body, but none of that mattered once someone lifted his head from the ground and started pouring beer into his mouth. 

Peter coughed and choked, but it was relentless until he was vomiting it all up.  Even then it didn’t stop; it just continued on until Peter’s fragile mind was blanking and sections of his short-term memory were fading.  There were gaps in what he remembered happening since being brought here to all these people, such big gaps, he didn’t even know what had happened for the ruckus to have stopped and for him to be sitting on someone’s lap, a blanket wrapped around his shaking body and someone’s arm holding him securely to a warm body Peter felt safe against. 

Peter’s hazy eyes slowly lifted to see what was happening.  He recognised Yondu, holding him closely while Kraglin sat beside them and was pulling away a bloodstained cloth to replace it with a fresh one against Peter’s bleeding head.  

Yondu was shaking, Peter recognised.  As he dragged his gaze back down again, he noticed blood on Yondu’s hands and clothing, and even a little smudge of it on his cheek.  It must be Peter’s blood, he’d assumed, too young to understand the implications that it was somebody else’s. 

They were in a car, Peter slowly gathered by the bumps of the old country road they were on.  Not Yondu’s SUV or Kraglin’s old beater truck, but one that looked kind of like the inside of Aleta and Stakar’s great big car that Yondu had once told him was called a Land Cruiser.  

“Pete.” 

Peter jolted when he felt someone touch his hand. He relaxed when he realised it had only been Kraglin.  He hummed in response. 

“You feelin’ okay?” Kraglin was dropping the bloodied rag to the floor.  “How’s your head?” 

Peter hummed again. He snuggled in close to Yondu and tucked his legs beneath him.  His blurry double-vision focused on a deep gash that traveled from Kraglin’s hairline, past his eye, and down his cheek, but his mind was too clouded to think much about it.  “Okay…” 

Yondu wasn’t speaking, but Peter didn’t even notice - hell, he didn’t even realise that there was a third person in the car as both Yondu and Kraglin were in the backseat with him.  All he knew was that Yondu’s body was vibrating and the man wouldn’t let go of him once; nothing more and nothing less. 

“Don’t try an’ sleep,” Kraglin murmured.  “Stay awake, ‘kay? Your head is hurt. We’re goin’ to the doctor now.” 

Peter hummed again.  He kept his eyes focused on Kraglin throughout the ride as he stayed curled in Yondu’s protective warmth.  

That was the last time Peter would ever see Gef again, and never would Yondu tell him what had transpired there. 

* * *

 

Peter had refused to go to bed that night, and Yondu hadn’t had the heart to force him.  Really, though; Yondu hadn’t had the heart for  _ anything  _ after they’d gotten home from the doctors; after everything that had happened, he was too scared to leave Peter alone.

“You feelin’ ‘right, Petey?”  Yondu was sitting on the couch next to Peter, his arm around the boy’s shoulders as the TV played softly in the background.  Kraglin napped on the other couch across from them, and Peter was curled up against Yondu’s side as his eyes stayed fixed on the movie he just couldn’t get enough of.  

Peter finally broke his gaze away from TV to look up at Yondu.  His eyes were glassy and he swayed slightly, still a tad drunk as the doctor had deemed him to be.  His raccoon was in his arms, drinking from the bottle Peter so lovingly fed it from. Yondu hoped it was genuinely Peter’s environment that had him looking so calm and not because Peter had blocked it all out and numbed himself again.  “...” 

Yondu sighed.  He glanced at the TV for a few seconds before he tugged Peter closer to him.  “Ya hungry? Wanna help me make a cake, Petey? Or ya wanna keep watchin’ Footloose?” 

Peter looked down at the raccoon as he considered the question.  He pulled the bottle away to examine how much milk was left in it, and satisfied that he’d only fed as much as Yondu had told him to, he put the bottle down beside him and mumbled, “C-cake…” 

Yondu patted Peter’s shoulder.  “‘kay. Put him in his bed an’ go wash yer hands.”

Peter did as he was instructed.  He stumbled slightly, his mind still hazy from the alcohol, but to Yondu’s relief, he made it to the kitchen without falling.  Yondu used antibacterial wipes to clean Peter’s hands from any remaining bacteria leftover from the raccoon, but once that was done, he instructed the boy to go to the fridge and get the milk and eggs.

Peter obeyed, but before he could bring the items back to Yondu, he dropped the milk and carton of eggs, splattering them both against the hardwood floor.  It happened so fast, Yondu couldn’t have predicted it; Peter let out an angry howl and threw himself against the counters repeatedly, smashing his head against the overhanging cabinets and disturbing the fragile stitches he’d been given only hours ago.  He shied away when Yondu tried to grab him, his screaming growing more and more agitated as he swiped everything off the counters. 

“Boy!” Yondu’s arms wrapped around Peter firmly, holding him in place so he couldn’t cause any more damage to himself.  “Pete, what the hell!” 

Peter kept screaming, lashing out much like he had with Gef - but unlike Gef, Yondu stood still and took it.  Kraglin, who had awoken at the screaming, tried to give the Walkman to the boy to calm him down - but all it accomplished was making Peter angrier as he tried to escape his prized item.  

Yondu put his hand on the back of Peter’s head to press his face into his stomach, trying to muffle the screaming.  Kraglin had never seen him look so devastated. “I don’ know wha’ happened - just lost his mind…” 

“He’s angry and hurt…” Kraglin bowed his head as his own memories played through his mind.  Sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder just how similar his memories were to Peter’s. “Gef must’a set ‘im off good…  His mind pro’ly can’t handle that stuff anymore after bein’ ‘way from it so long...” 

Yondu sighed.  He kept holding Peter until the boy had stopped thrashing and instead was sobbing softly into his shirt.  He pulled his hand away to allow the boy to move his head around again. “Pete? You ‘kay now?” 

Peter sniffled, but the nod he responded with wasn’t very convincing.  He accepted his Walkman gingerly when Kraglin offered it again, and after being sat on the barstool at the counter, he put his headphones over his ears and turned his mixtape on.  

Yondu and Kraglin worked to clean the mess up.  They got more eggs and the other carton of milk from the fridge to continue baking, and all the while, Peter watched them in silence.  

When Peter finally spoke, his voice was tentative.  “Yondu…?” 

“Yeah, boy?” Yondu didn’t look up from the cake mix he was stirring.

Peter’s hands fumbled together before ducked his head and whispered, “...Peter…  Pete - I-I… I sleep with Yon - with you…?” 

“You wanna sleep with me, boy?” Finally, Yondu lifted his head.  

Peter nodded.  “...Peter… I-I…  I… No like… No like…  Alone…” 

“Ya can sleep with me, Petey,” Yondu promised.  “Or you wanna sleep with Krag? Krag likes cuddles.” 

“...” Peter looked between the two of them before he pointed a shaky finger at Yondu.  He fell silent again for several moments before he whispered, “Yondu…? Gef… G-gef…” 

Yondu froze in what he was doing to force out, “He didn’t put his hands in yer pants, did he, boy…?” 

Peter shook his head.  He was so small, it broke Yondu’s heart to see him whisper brokeningly, “No…” 

Yondu’s hands clenched by his sides as he gruffed out, “Anyone puts their hands down there an’ ya don’t want them to, I’ll -” 

Kraglin put his hand on Yondu’s elbow and shook his head.  With pleading eyes, he begged the man to leave his sentence unfinished.  

Yondu sighed again.  “Petey, I’m… I’m glad we got ya in time…” 

Peter sniffed.  His voice quivered with so much emotional pain, Kraglin almost couldn’t bear to be present.  “D-daddy… h-hurt m-mom… for… for h-helping Peter… Y-yondu and K-k-krag… hurt, too…?” 

It took everything Yondu had to not throw up at the knowledge that Peter was terrified he was going to lose Yondu and Kraglin the way he’d lost his mother. He forced his emotions deep down into his stomach as he growled, “Ain’t no one takin’ us from ya, Petey - and ain’t no one  _ hurtin’  _ ya, either.  You’ve been through ‘nough shit in yer life; ya don’t need to hurt anymore, boy.” 

A single tear rolled down Peter’s cheek, but when he spoke, he realised his tone was as empty as his heart.  “Peter has to hurt… Daddy said Peter has to… Because Peter… only good for hurting…” 

Yondu couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat.  Kraglin moved to wrap his arm around Peter’s shoulders and shake his head.

“Petey, that’s not true…” Kraglin whispered.  

“Daddy says… Peter is whore…” Peter’s face scrunched up as he recalled Ego’s words to him.  “Whore only good for hurt… Peter is whore; daddy said so…” 

Kraglin felt his eyes burn with tears as he forced through grit teeth.  “You even  _ know  _ what a whore is, Pete…?” 

Peter nodded.  “Whore is Peter…” 

“You are  _ not _ ,” Kraglin growled.  He swallowed thickly and spat out, “My brother told me the same…  Told me I’m a whore, too… He… He  _ used  _ me like one…  He used me like one so badly, I…  I’m scared of… Of… But I’m  _ not  _ a whore, and you aren’t either, Petey!” 

Peter looked up to search Kraglin’s eyes.  “...Peter… Pete - I-I… I…” 

“You are  _ Petey, _ ” Kraglin reinforced.  “You’re a little boy, and my little brother…  You are  _ nothin’  _ that man ever said you are!” 

Peter sniffed.  His lips moved wordlessly for a few moments before he whispered to himself, “Peter is Peter…  Pe - I… I is Peter…” 

“You are  _ Peter,  _ and I’m going to kick the shit outta yer father if I ever come ‘cross him,” Yondu growled.  

Kraglin held Peter close.  He dropped his head to rest against the boy’s own.  “Don’t ever call yourself a whore, Petey… You could  _ never  _ be one for what’s been done to ya…” 

Peter frowned.  “...Don’t want… talk ‘bout daddy now…” 

Yondu mumbled something under his breath, but he didn’t otherwise respond to Peter; he just focused on getting the cake into the oven.  Kraglin, however, only held him tighter. 

“Sometimes, when I was your age…” Kraglin fidgeted nervously as he thought about how to divulge such sensitive information about himself, “...I didn’t wanna talk ‘bout my brother, either…  And my dad, he… He kinda blamed  _ me  _ for what my brother did to me…  I was sad like you are, Petey… Angry…  I dunno; I sorta wanted to die, really…  Sometimes I still do… But ya learn to not hate everythin’ as much after a while o’ getting ‘way from it all…” 

Peter looked at Kraglin, absorbing the words as his heart ached for the other.  “...” 

“I’m just sayin’...” Kraglin looked down.  “...Sometimes feelin’ so sad shows us what we have ta be happy ‘bout…  An’ I’m sure you’ll be happy, too, Petey… When you don’t feel so angry an’ sad all the time anymore…” 

A fresh wave of tears rolled down Peter’s cheeks as he moved further into Kraglin’s arms.  He sniffed loudly before he whimpered, “Peter… always feel empty, Krag…” 

“An’ that gets better, too…” Kraglin promised.  “I swear…” 


	9. Chapter 9

“Krag, can you show me again?  Just one more time?”

Kraglin sighed.  “I just showed ya four times in two minutes, Petey.  You gotta learn these things.” 

A pout crossed Peter’s face.  His now-long, lanky limbs folded across his chest as his gangly body shivered from the cold his blanket wasn’t quite fighting away.  He’d grown tall for his nineteen-years of age - testimony to just how well Yondu had cared for him - but his features were still young and delicate, not yet filled out.  “Krag… One more time? I promise I’ll learn it; I really want him, Krag!” 

Kraglin was like putty in Peter’s hands, and everyone knew it.  It was no surprise Kraglin took the Gameboy from Peter and ran him through the steps of catching Pokémon yet again, despite him having already come close to finishing the game.  They watched as the ball on the screen rocked side-to-side before it fell still, the capture successful and Peter’s eyes glinting with joy. “There. You got him now.” 

The look on Peter’s face was pure excitement as his eyes took in the sight of his new puppy Pokémon.  He passed the Gameboy back to Kraglin again. “Can you name him for me?” 

Kraglin took on a much more tender tone as he nodded.  “Sure. What ya wanna name ‘im?”

Peter regarded the question, and as he did so, he looked to his lap in shame.  His hands fumbled together, knowing he was so stupid for not being able to read - everyone  _ else  _ he knew could read, but he… 

Ego had been right; Peter  _ was  _ stupid. 

Peter waited until Kraglin had named his new Pokémon before he mumbled, “I forgot what one you said is my Fire Stone… I wanna evolve him…” 

“It’s the first item in your bag; I put it there for ya,” Kraglin promised.  

Peter concentrated hard as he navigated the daunting menu of words that looked jumbled in his mind to find his bag of items.  His fingers trembled, but he found what he was looking for, and once he was looking at his newly-evolved fire dog, pure joy spread across his face, and he looked truly carefree. 

“Okay, where do I go now!” Peter had become exuberant, bouncing around in his seat as he eagerly awaited his instructions.  Kraglin helped him with his game, explaining to him all the dialogue he couldn’t read and helping him with items and attacks he didn’t understand.  

But of course, Kraglin eventually had to leave, and the bliss Peter had been in went with him.  He sighed and turned his game off, knowing there was no point in continuing when he couldn’t read to know where he had to go next.  

But turning his game off left him with nothing to do.  He put the Gameboy down on the coffee table with a sigh before he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.  He could hear the tree branch scraping against the window again as the storm lashed outside, and it only added to his discomfort. 

Peter didn’t move.  It wasn’t that he didn’t  _ want  _ to move, but rather, he  _ couldn’t  _ move.  He didn’t know what to do with himself; Kraglin was gone and Yondu wasn’t home, and he felt he was at a total loss as to how to pass his time.  

In the end, Peter stayed where he was, unmoving, until the sun went down and he was engulfed in darkness.  Even then, he didn’t move to turn on any lights; he just sat where he was, gripping at his pants legs and staring at his lap.  

The sound of Yondu’s SUV caught Peter’s attention, but still, he stayed where he was until the front door opened and Yondu was calling his name in concern.  He frowned when the living room lights were switched on, but he just wouldn’t move.

“Petey…” Yondu came to sit next to Peter in concern.  “What are ya doin’ sittin’ in the dark…?” 

Peter shrugged.  He dropped his head onto Yondu’s shoulder and cuddled into the man’s side.  “Krag went home…” 

“So ya thought it’d be a good idea ta sit in the dark and almost give me a heart attack…” Yondu wrapped his arm around Peter’s waist and held him close.  “Why are ya just sittin’ here, anyway?”

“Krag was helping me with my game, and then he went home and I…” Peter bit his lip, “...didn’t feel good inside…” 

“Boy, yer never gonna be happy if all ya do is sit here watchin’ TV and playin’ games all day,” Yondu pointed out.  

“I don’t know what else to do, though…” Peter whispered.  

“So you just sit here and wait for someone to come entertain ya…?” Yondu sighed.  His tone hardened, speaking firmly to try and drill the matter into Peter’s head. “Petey…  I get ya. I really do. But ya can’t expect e’ryone else to make you happy! Krag has his own life; I have my own life…  And we love ya, Petey - you  _ know  _ we do - but you gotta learn ta  _ live _ .” 

“How…?” Peter whispered.  

“Do stuff ya like,” Yondu explained. 

“I only like being with you and Krag…” Peter looked down again as he wrung the hem of his shirt nervously. 

“You like more than that,” Yondu pointed out.  “Ya like Footloose, and ya like your games. And ya like cars and bein’ an annoyin’ shit.  Don’t ya like space, too? Krag said you do.” 

Peter nodded.  Timidly, he whispered, “Space is cool, Yondu… But I…” 

“If yer sad, then do somethin’ instead of sittin’ in the dark…” Yondu whispered as the pain truly crept into his voice now.  “It hurts us to… To  _ see  _ it, Pete…  Have a bath, or go for a drive or somethin’...” 

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  “Where do I drive to if I’m not going anywhere?” 

“Don’t matter; just go anywhere - do laps ‘round the block if ya wanna.  Just… _ Drive.   _ Do somethin’.   _ Live _ .” 

A comfortable silence filled the living room until Peter’s nervous murmur broke it minutes later.  “Yondu…?” 

“Yeah?” 

“...Are you… gonna kick me out, too…?” Peter’s eyes filled with tears at the thought of it. 

Yondu was stunned.  “ _ What?!  _  The hell you mean by  _ too _ , boy?!  Who I kicked out before?!” 

Peter flinched.  He looked to his lap as he whispered, “On the TV…  People like me… only stay until they’re eighteen… And nobody else wanted me, so…” 

“Pete, why the  _ hell  _ would I kick ya out?!” Yondu demanded.  “You’re an annoyin’ little shit who talks too much, but I…  I  _ love  _ ya, Pete…  If I didn’ like ya, I wouldn’t have let ya stay so long.” 

Peter sniffed back tears he hadn’t noticed were welling in his eyes.  “...E-ego… Ego…” 

Yondu stayed silent, waiting for Peter to open up.  It was rare he ever talked about his father, and it usually wasn’t much he said; just little things about his past Peter carefully spoke about so he didn’t reveal anything major.  

“...” Finally, Peter whispered what was on his mind.  “...Ego said… Only  _ Ego  _ would ever love me… That he’d be the only person who’d ever  _ want  _ me…  And everyone else… would  _ hate  _ me…” 

“Whatever Ego felt for you was  _ not  _ love, boy,” Yondu said firmly.  “He was a  _ sick  _ man, and if ya think that  _ he  _ loved you and  _ we  _ don’t…!” 

Peter shook his head.  He snuggled in closer. “I used to think he loved me…  Peter - I-I believed him… But then I felt what a hug was like, and I…  It made me remember my mother, and how she… How  _ she  _ loved me…” 

Yondu nodded in understanding.  “Ya know we love ya, boy… We aren’t perfect…. Me, or Krag, or our friends…  But we mean right by ya, Pete. We’d do anythin’ for ya to make sure yer happy an’ safe.” 

Peter sniffed back his tears.  He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand before he whispered, “I feel like there’s this emptiness in my heart, Yondu…  Like… I just feel so…  _ empty _ …  I sorta feel numb…  But at the same time, I always feel so…  So  _ sad _ …” 

“You gotta tell this stuff to your therapist, boy,” Yondu explained.  “I know ya aren’t comfortable talkin’ ‘bout it to people, but ya  _ gotta _ .” 

“I don’t want to,” Peter whispered timidly.  “I’m  _ scared  _ to talk about it…” 

“Yer never gonna feel better keepin’ it locked up inside, boy,” Yondu warned.  “Even  _ Krag  _ talks ‘bout his problems.” 

Peter shook his head.  “I don’t… want to  _ remember _ …” 

Yondu sighed.  There was no point lecturing Peter; Peter already knew all of this and more.  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “...Right. Dinner. You eaten, boy?” 

“No…  I’m not hungry…” 

Yondu wanted more than anything to break into the psychiatric hospital Peter’s father was locked away in and murder him slowly and painfully.  “...Right… Well, I’m gonna cook dinner, so find somethin’ ta do. Ya can help me if ya want; ya want spaghetti?” 

Peter’s response was to remain silent. 

Yondu sighed.  Hoping to get Peter back out of his dark place, he changed the subject. “So those friends of yours…  Talkin’ ‘bout goin’ ta university.” 

Peter nodded. “...” 

“Why don’t ya go, too?” Yondu suggested.  “It’d be great for ya; make some new friends an’ do somethin’ with yer life.”

“But, Yondu…” Peter wrapped his arms around himself uncomfortably, “...I’ve never been to school… And I… I can’t…  _ read…! _ ”

“Ya really think I wouldn’t sit down with ya and help ya with yer work?  I’m not sayin’  _ do it,  _ Petey.  But think ‘bout it.  You’re a smart boy, Pete.  You  _ know  _ ya are.”

Peter shook his head again.  Unable to keep up with the subject, he mumbled, “...Peter…  I… I want… I want to…” 

Yondu stayed silent as Peter mulled things over in his mind, hoping with every fiber of his being that Peter  _ would  _ find something he was interested in at that exact moment.  “...” 

Peter finally made eye contact with Yondu, and so damned  _ timidly _ , it hurt Yondu’s heart _ ,  _ he whispered, “Can I go for a drive…?” 

“Ya know ya can.” Yondu fished the keys from his pocket to hand to the boy.  In desperate hope that it would help Peter, he suggested, “How ‘bout tomorrow we go buy ya a car, Petey?  Ya can go wherever you want when I’m not home.” 

Peter leant down and picked his blanket up from where it had fallen to the floor hours ago.  He shook his head. “I don’t think I have enough money…” 

“Petey, I  _ know  _ how much is in your account; I do yer damn bankin’ for ya ‘cause I  _ pay  _ ya,” Yondu reminded firmly.  “I’ll loan ya, boy. Give ya some more shifts an’ make some more money.  ...Get ya outta the house more.” 

Peter’s shoulders squeezed together in his uneasiness.  He looked back down as he accepted the keys, but he couldn’t say anything; he didn’t know  _ what  _ to say.  “...” 

“Go have fun, Pete,” Yondu dismissed.  “Dinner’ll be in the microwave for ya when ya get back.” 

Peter nodded again.  He hugged Yondu tight before he left in silence, heading out to the SUV as he thought about Yondu’s words; if he didn’t have to have a destination he  _ had  _ to be at to go somewhere, then he knew where he could go - he just hoped it wouldn’t be so cold when he got there.

* * *

 

As a child, Peter had often stared out of his bedroom window in longing to the lake not far from the house.  He’d always wanted to go see it in person; to perhaps go into the water and see what it felt like against his skin.  He’d asked his mother once about the lake, but that had been back when he was in chains. 

Even as a teenager, when Yondu would take him to work, they had to cross a bridge with a river beneath it.  Just before the bridge started was a dirt rest area that overlooked the river, and if one clambered down the steep slope and through the brush, they could probably wade through the shallows.

Peter had always wanted to see the river, but he’d never had the courage to ask Yondu to take him.

But here and now, as Peter sat in the dirt with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around them, he kept his chin on his kneecaps as his Walkman flowed through the open door via the car stereo.  He sat in front of the idling car so that the headlights bounced off him as it illuminated the river and all its vegetation. 

But the serenity Peter had been experiencing was broken when another car pulled up beside the SUV, and two doors closed behind him.  Peter turned his head to see who it was, not caring if it were a murderer like he always saw on the TV; part of him would welcome a swift death if it would bring him reprieve from the constant pain inside him.  

“You know, for a mechanic, I’d have thought you’d know that idling a diesel car isn’t good for them.” 

Peter cocked his head to the side when the SUV’s engine was killed.  He recognised Gamora’s voice, so why was part of him disappointed at the knowledge he  _ wasn’t  _ going to die?   _ God,  _ there was  _ so much  _ wrong with him…! 

Peter remained silent until Gamora sat beside him.  He heard her sister shuffling around by the cars, but he didn’t mind; Nebula wasn’t exactly  _ nice  _ to him, but he knew she wouldn’t  _ hurt  _ him.  “I just wanted to see the river…” 

“You’re shaking,” Gamora pointed out.  

Peter hummed. It was true; he  _ was  _ shaking, but he wasn’t sure he could blame it entirely on the cold. The single tear that rolled down his cheek was evident enough.  “...” 

Gamora knew Peter well.  She’d been the first person Peter had really started talking to - mostly quoting the movies he consumed hungrily - but even so, it’d been with her he’d learnt better English.  “You came all the way out here to cry?” 

Peter wiped his tear away with the back of his hand.  “...I… It reminds me… of stuff…” 

Gamora put her arm around his shoulders.  She knew how Peter purposely isolated himself - from both people and emotions.  “Do you want to come stay with me for the night?”

Peter nodded.  “I have to ask Yondu first…” 

“He isn’t going to mind,” Gamora reminded.  “If you take his car back to your house, we’ll follow you with our car.” 

Peter nodded again.  “Okay…” 

It was easy enough for Peter to end up at Gamora’s home, but the reality was that he’d been there for all of ten minutes before his depression finally caught up with him, and all he could do was cry.  

Gamora stayed with Peter, Nebula leaving them be to return to her own room.  But Peter, who’d been through so much in his life, had always dealt with his problems by sleeping them away. 

It was no different at Gamora’s than it was at Yondu’s or Kraglin’s; he’d curled up on the couch and forced himself into sleep, leaving Gamora’s adopted brother to carry him into one of the spare bedrooms.  

But of course, Peter awoke from the nightmares he feared would never stop plaguing him, with a wet spot between his legs and shame consuming him as he thought of how to tell Gamora he’d wet their bed  _ again _ . 

But Gamora wasn’t home when he’d knocked on her bedroom door.  In fact, Nebula was gone as well. He wasn’t  _ too  _ alarmed; he’d figured they’d just been called in to work unexpectedly. 

That left just one more person who could help him, and Peter felt the tears of shame build in his eyes at the very thought of it. 

“Ronan…?” Peter knocked on the door down the hall, his body tense at his fright; he knew Ronan didn’t like people near his bedroom, and honestly…

Ronan was _ terrifying.  _

“Come in.” 

But, as Gamora had promised Peter all those years ago, Ronan wouldn’t hurt him - the agitated, yet almost  _ patient  _ way Ronan had answered him only backed up her claims.  

Peter slowly pushed the door open so he could stare down at his feet.  Tears rolled down his cheeks as he bunched his shirt in his hand and tugged nervously at it.  “...” 

Ronan didn’t ask questions; he simply stood from his desk and moved to get a pair of sweats from his dresser and pass them to Peter.  “I will have your bed cleaned so you can return to sleep.” 

Peter sniffed. “Can… Can I just stay with you…?” 

Ronan stared at Peter’s face for so long, Peter flinched at the scrutiny.  But finally, Ronan gave a stiff nod as he pointed to his bed. “Sleep now.” 

Peter ducked into the adjoining bathroom so he could clean himself up before he crawled into the huge bed he hadn’t realised could be so comfortable.  

Peter didn’t go back to sleep, though; he lay under his blankets and watched Ronan work on his laptop at the desk across from him. 

Ronan was a huge, bulky guy, and Peter would be lying if he said the man didn’t intimidate him. But at the same time, he knew Ronan on a personal level, and though Ronan had his own issues - frightening ones when he would lose his mind and lash out at inanimate objects - Ronan was fiercely loyal and devoted to his family and, by extension, Peter.  

“Ronan…?” The fact that Peter could try and talk to Ronan without repercussion, let alone be in his room and in his  _ bed _ proved how harmless Ronan was to Peter.  

Ronan didn’t sound very interested as he responded. “Yes.” 

“What are you doing…?” Peter sat up now. He pulled the blankets around him like a cocoon as he watched the man type. 

“Work.” Ronan didn’t sound any more interested than he had five seconds ago. 

“Oh…” Peter licked his lips before he spoke again.  “What kind of work…?” 

“The kind of work that involves you ceasing your incessant prattling, child.”

Peter pouted.  “You’re using your big words… Gamora told you you’re not allowed to use your big words around me because you confuse me…” 

Ronan didn’t respond. He’d almost thought Peter had finally fallen silent, but of course, he should have known better; that boy  _ never  _ shut up and could talk anyone’s ears off.  

“Who are you messaging…?” Peter’s eyes were focused on the phone Ronan had just put back down on the desk.  

“No one for you to know about,” Ronan responded calmly.

“...” Peter was silent for all of three seconds.  “Are you texting your girlfriend…?” 

“No.” 

“Okay…  Your boyfriend…?” 

“No.” 

“...” Ronan was a fool to believe Peter would give up that easy.  “...A friend…?” 

Ronan sighed.  “How does Udonta deal with you, child?” 

Peter shrugged.  “I’ve learnt that if I talk enough to Yondu, he gives me chocolate or ice cream so I’m quiet for a while…” 

“I have none of that to offer you except for my annoyance at my peaceful night being disturbed.” Ronan was so calm, if Gamora was around, she’d have pointed out how anyone else would have been dead by now.  

There was silence again, and this time it lasted longer than a minute. Ronan had almost thought Peter had fallen asleep.  

And then…

“But you have a girlfriend, right…?” Peter whispered.  

“I do not.” Ronan didn’t miss a beat.  

“...A boyfriend, then…” 

“No.” 

“...But you… You…” Peter let out a frustrated sound as he struggled to convey his thoughts.  

“I have sexual encounters if that is what you are asking.” How Ronan wasn’t ready to snap Peter’s neck was a mystery. 

Peter looked away.  Uneasily, he whispered, “Do you think I’m weird because I… I…” 

“You are not weird for not wanting sex,” Ronan deadpanned.  He knew the story, and even  _ he  _ wasn’t so cruel as to ignore Peter’s suffering.  “If you have no desire for sex, you’re not weird.”

Peter chewed at his lip before he continued.  “I heard Yondu ask my doctor once… When Yondu thought I couldn’t hear him… He asked why I don’t…  D-don’t… U-umm… I think Yondu thinks I’m weird ‘cause I…” 

“You do not have a sex drive, and thus you have no interest in masturbation.” Ronan didn’t even look away from his laptop once.  “You are not weird, and it’s not abnormal for someone such as yourself to abstain from self-pleasure. It means nothing except you have no desire for sexual situations.  That can always change in the future, but no; you’re not weird. Now  _ please _ , child.  _ Sleep _ .” 

Ronan heard the bed sheets ruffling behind him, and then silence. 

But… 

“Ronan…?” 

Ronan sighed.  “Yes.”

Peter’s whisper was so quiet, Ronan almost didn’t hear it.  “ _ I  _ think I’m weird…” 

The silence that followed didn’t betray this time; Peter really had closed his eyes and gone back to sleep.  An hour later, once Ronan had turned the lights off and clambered into his bed, he was almost startled at the way Peter’s body jolted and he  _ pleaded _ , “N-no, please!  I-I  _ can’t _ !” 

“Hush.” Ronan stayed on his side, making no move to reach out to the frightened boy beside him.  “I have no desire to have sex with you.  _ Sleep.” _

It took a while, but finally, Peter fell back asleep.  Some time through the night, Ronan awoke to Peter snuggling against his back.  __


	10. Chapter 10

“So I’ve been playing this game Kraglin showed me, and I -“ Peter interrupted himself to take a bite of his bacon.  He chewed and swallowed with all the vigor of a starving man before he exclaimed, “Your cooks are awesome! This is even better than Yondu’s bacon!”

Ronan kept his eyes closed as he enjoyed his own breakfast. Calmly, he replied, “Of course it is; I personally would not eat anything that man prepares himself.” 

“Hey…” Peter took another bite.  “Not  _ everything  _ Yondu makes is bad!  He just… makes some really weird stuff sometimes.  He once gave me broccoli - but it had blue stuff all over it!  _ Blue _ , Ronan!  And another time, he -“ 

“Do you have something against the colour blue?” Ronan’s eyes widened aggressively, but Peter was in too much of a good mood to even notice. 

“Nah, I love the colour blue!” Peter defended.  “Oh! But I wanna tell you about my game, okay? Kraglin bought it for me for a gift, and I love it so much because I love the cartoons, too - but it’s really hard for me to play because I can’t really read it.  But! I got my fire dog! His name is Arcanine, and he’s -“ 

“Has anyone ever told you you talk too much?” Ronan’s eyes narrowed slightly, but as firm as his tone was, there was no hint of threat.  

“Well, yes.  All the time.” Peter’s legs swung back and forth, chipper from the deep, peaceful sleep he’d had in Ronan’s room that he so rarely could experience. “Yondu tells me that every day.  Anyway, where are Gamora and Nebula? I thought they’d have finished work by now.” 

“They are, no doubt, out causing trouble somewhere.” Ronan wasn’t fazed; he just sipped so casually at his tea, it was like he was discussing the weather.  “When is Udonta expecting you back? I will take you home before I go to the gym.” 

“Oh, Yondu won’t mind if I don’t come back until late,” Peter promised. 

“Hmm.  No doubt he’s just relieved to be away from you for a while.  I think I liked you better when you wouldn’t speak around me.” 

There weren’t many people Peter could take that kind of joke from, but honestly, he was just so surprised by Ronan’s unexpected use of humour, he couldn’t help but laugh.  “But you like it when I talk to you. Gamora told me I’m the only person you’ve never grumped at for talking to you.” 

“And I can fix that if you’d like.” 

“Nah.  I like that you like me, Ro.  Can I come to the gym with you?” 

“And be seen with you accompanying me?  I would die of shame.” 

Peter laughed again.  “Please? ...Yondu… tells me I need to do stuff…” 

Ronan fixed Peter with his scrutinising stare once again as the cogs in his mind ticked over. Peter fidgeted uncomfortably beneath his gaze, looking at his lap to escape. Finally, he came to a decision.  “Yes. But do not embarrass me. You will learn quickly or I will leave you to embarrass yourself.” 

Peter smiled.  “Thanks! ...Dude…” 

Ronan raised his eyebrow. “Why do you call me a dude?” 

A shy blush crossed Peter’s face as he looked to his lap yet again.  “...I… I hear it on the TV a lot… I really like it…” 

Ronan let it be.  He waited until Peter had eaten before he’d ordered him to get dressed and ready.  It was when he’d ushered Peter into his car and driven all of one minute away from his house did he find himself already regretting his decision of bringing the boy along.  

“Why would you buy a Mercedes?  They’re over-engineered and cost too much to fix.” Peter fingered his seatbelt lazily as he allowed Ronan to drive him to the gym.  

Ronan felt his eyelid twitch in annoyance, but still, he had patience left with Peter.  “Money is of no concern to me, child. You are a mechanic; if you’re that worried about how much I spend on this car, perhaps you should be giving me free repairs in return for my  _ friendship _ , that you so often call my patience with you.” 

Peter waved a dismissive hand.  “Nah. Maybe if you had a simpler car, I’d do it for free. ‘Sides, Yondu would yell at me if I did something for free.  He hates it when people try and take advantage of me.”

Ronan opened his mouth to respond, but Peter beat him to it. 

“Hey, turn the radio on; I don’t like driving without music!” Peter didn’t wait for invitation; his pudgy fingers found their way to the stereo.  

Ronan sighed.  “Would Udonta come for me if I don’t happen to bring you home at some point today?” 

“Probably. Why?” 

“Because I am thinking about how long I’ll have to flee the country before he realises I’ve buried you somewhere.” 

Those words struck a nerve in Peter.  His expression was as pained as his voice was as he whimpered, “That isn’t funny, Ronan…  You’re being too mean!” 

Ronan’s lips pursed.  “I apologise. I didn’t intend on upsetting you.” 

Peter sniffed back tears.  He wiped at his eyes before he mumbled, “My mother is buried somewhere…  I know I would remember where if I went back there… But the police didn’t believe me when I told them, and I’m too scared to go back to that house…” 

“I apologise; I didn’t know, Quill.” 

“Well, you do now!” Peter snapped.  He could feel the familiar bout of rage swirling in his stomach, the same anger that always consumed him whenever he got upset about something, but without Yondu to lash out at, it was easier for him to control it.  

Peter didn’t understand why he lashed out so aggressively at Yondu when he loved the man so much.  He didn’t really act out with anyone else; it was just… 

No matter how much Peter loved Yondu, it felt like Yondu was the one Peter took everything out on. 

An uncomfortable silence lingered about them until Ronan finally said, “You never talk about your past.  Gamora doesn’t know much about it; only what Udonta has told her. Why do you keep everything inside?” 

Peter sniffed.  “It’s easier to pretend I don’t hurt as much as I do if no one else knows to treat me any differently…”

“Yet people will still inadvertently hurt you because they do not  _ know _ ,” Ronan pointed out.  “Running only makes things worse.”

Peter sniffed again as he battled against the memories of being forced to help Ego dig his mother a grave.  “Please, I don’t want to talk about this right now…! Please…” 

Ronan nodded.  “I respect that.”

Peter didn’t speak for the rest of the trip, but he did perk up a little once they’d gotten to the gym.  Ronan gave him brief run-downs on how to use the equipment, but Peter learnt fast - and the best thing about it was, the more he exercised, the more the heavy restraints in his mind lifted, and his heart and emotions balanced.  

“Ronan?” Peter put down the dumbbells he was playing with so he could look at his companion.  “Can I come here with you more often…?” 

Ronan gave a stiff nod.  “Until you embarrass me.” 

Peter’s laugh was soft, albeit genuine.  “You’re kinda the one who embarrasses  _ me  _ ‘cause I’ve never seen another person with no eyebrows.” 

Ronan let out a growl.  “And I’ve never known another person stupid enough to put a firecracker in someone else’s face.  It’s  _ your  _ fault they’re growing back.” 

“Touche.” Peter’s smile became sheepish.  “Umm… I’m still really sorry about that…” 

“Not as sorry as I am…” Ronan muttered to himself.  “Go get heavier weights; it’s pitiful seeing you lifting such pathetic weight.” 

“But, Ro, I’m not as strong as you!” Peter’s eyes fell onto Ronan’s biceps.  His gaze lingered, perhaps a little  _ too  _ long. 

Ronan cleared his throat to bring Peter’s eyes back to his own.  “What are you staring at?” 

Peter’s cheeks flushed as he gave a shy smile.  “Sorry… I-I… I was just…” 

“I was under the impression you are very much afraid of men with muscle,” Ronan said.  “Yet you appear fascinated by my own.” 

“Yeah…  But I know you, Ro!  I trust you. You just…  You scare me sometimes… But I know you’d never use your strength to hurt me…” Peter looked at his feet.  “...I just… I-I get  _ scared  _ when I know people can overpower me…” 

“Then put on more weights and get stronger,” Ronan encouraged.  “Come to the gym with me often and I will help you.” 

Peter nodded.  A grin slowly broke out across his face.  “Thanks, Ronan… I’d really like that.” 

Ronan didn’t respond, but Peter didn’t mind. He knew Ronan had a soft spot for him; he spoke to Peter far more than he did anyone else outside his family, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

 

Peter went home for lunch.  Yondu was home, off work due to an injury to both his hands, but that only meant Peter had a good meal cooked for him, and company as he ate. 

“I was thinking today…” Peter started off slowly as he stirred his spoon through his curry. 

“You?  _ Thinkin’?!   _ That’s a first.” Yondu snorted at the look of surprise on Peter’s face. “C’mon, Petey, ya know it’s true.” 

Peter pouted, but it didn’t deter him from what was on his mind.  “I was thinking that I… I want a job…” 

“Ya  _ got  _ a job,” Yondu reminded.  

“No…” Peter sighed. “I mean, like… I love working for you, and I love working on cars…  But I just… I feel like I… I don’t feel good inside because I… I don’t feel like I  _ earned  _ what I have with you…” 

“What, should I buy you a nice outfit an’ sit ya down for a job interview?” Yondu rolled his eyes.  “Ya damn  _ did  _ deserve it, Pete; I ain’t lettin’ just  _ anyone  _ work for me.” 

“Yondu!” Peter was getting frustrated.  He was upsetting Yondu, and that in turn was upsetting him.  He reached up to pull at his hair. “That isn’t it, Yondu! Everyone else has normal jobs that they work hard to keep, and here I am, only getting yelled at if I don’t tighten bolts on a car!  It’s stupid! Everyone else is normal and works normal jobs and they can  _ lose  _ their jobs, and I…” 

“Ya just want to fit in, boy…”  Yondu didn’t know what that was like to feel, but judging by the look of despair on Peter’s face, it must be horrible to feel like an outcast.  He sighed. “Fine.  _ Fine _ .  But if ya want a normal job, you need yer own car an’ decent clothes.  We gotta go shoppin’ today. Then we’ll write ya up some resumes an’ take ‘em into town.” 

The talk went better than Peter had anticipated.  He knew it had hurt Yondu to hear that Peter didn’t want to keep working for him - but at the same time, Peter also knew Yondu loved him and wanted him to be happy.  

“Are you mad at me…?” Peter whispered timidly. 

“Not mad.  Disappointed,” Yondu grumbled.  “I’m losin’ my best worker since Kraglin to a ‘ _ normal’  _ job.  I mean, if ya wanna flip burgers or somethin’ when ya could be joy-ridin’ customer cars with me… The hell kinda boy did I raise?” 

Peter put his bowl down on the coffee table so he could wrap his arms around Yondu and snuggle in close.  “A stupid one, apparently.” 

Yondu snorted. He patted Peter’s head fondly before he nodded.  “Not stupid. Smart boy ya are, Pete. Ya just make stupid decisions sometimes.” 

But deep down, Yondu couldn’t have been prouder of Peter for  _ finally  _ taking the initiative in his life - for the first time  _ without  _ anyone to push him to do so. 


	11. Chapter 11

“Gamora, can you help me?” It was Peter’s pitiful whine that had Gamora rolling her eyes and getting up from the couch to take the iron from him before he set the house on fire. 

Gamora was patient as she showed Peter how to iron his new work uniform, ready for his first day of his new receptionist job come the next morning.  But that wasn’t the only thing Peter needed help with - though this time Gamora was  _ much  _ more patient and understanding. 

“I’m just… really nervous, Gamora…” Peter played with his sleeve as he whispered timidly. “What if I can’t read their names…?  What if I… make a fool of myself…?” 

“You’ll be okay,” Gamora promised.  “If you can’t find the name you need, ask them to spell it for you.  Or ask them what time their appointment is and just look at the names at that time.” 

Peter nodded.  “Can you go over the alphabet with me again?” 

Gamora was ever-so-patient as she did so, just glad to see Peter was getting better at recognising letters, even if he still got confused between similar-looking letters.  Peter made up for it tenfold in just how loving and affectionate he was towards Gamora, though. 

“Are you planning on letting me go any time soon?” Gamora asked dryly at the arms that engulfed her in a tight hug.  She moved her head back so his oily hair wasn’t tickling her face as he rubbed his cheek against her shoulder. 

“Nah~” Peter purred.  He gave a soft, wistful sigh before he murmured, “Gamora…  I wish I had someone to cuddle…” 

“That someone isn’t going to be me, Peter,” Gamora firmly stated.  “Go out and get a girlfriend if you want to cuddle. ...Or a boyfriend.” 

Peter sniffed.  He moved closer to Gamora so he could curl around her like a drunk man and his last drink.  “I don’t want a girlfriend  _ or  _ a boyfriend…  I don’t want sex…  I just want  _ cuddles _ …” 

“You do realise dating someone doesn’t always have to involve sex, right?” Gamora threaded her fingers through Peter’s hair, wondering when his last shower had been at how filthy his hair was.  “There’s plenty of people out there in relationships who don’t have sex.” 

Peter shook his head.  “People will want to sex me up, Gamora…  Peter - I-I… Yondu said people will…” 

“Peter, I promise you there are people out there just like you who don’t want sex,” Gamora reiterated.  “They’re called asexuals, and for one reason or another, they don’t want sex, either.” 

Peter frowned.  “Gamora… Since Yondu showed me TV, I’ve always wanted someone to cuddle with me like they do in the movies…  But in the movies, they always have sex after… I don’t want anyone to see me naked because I hate my body, and I don’t know if I want them to touch my body, either…  I just want…  _ cuddles _ …” 

“You’re cuddling me right now,” Gamora pointed out.  

“No…!” A frustrated sound escaped Peter.  “I want… I want…” 

“Peter, you’re not talking about kissing, are you?” 

“No!  I want…!” Peter stomped his foot onto the ground before he stood up and grabbed Gamora’s wrist roughly.  He tugged her to her own feet before he pulled her into his bedroom and pointed to his bed. “Like on the TV, Gamora!” 

Gamora sighed.  “I still don’t understand, Peter.  You have to show me.” 

A growl escaped Peter as he let go of Gamora’s wrist to go back out into the living room and get a VHS tape from the shelf.  He came back to his bedroom to turn his TV on and put the tape into the video player. 

“Here!” Peter exasperated as he grabbed the remote to fast forward through the video to the scene he was trying to tell Gamora about.  

Gamora knew she shouldn’t laugh, but she did anyway at the softcore sex scene she knew Peter thought was nothing more than two people embracing.  Part of her felt sorry for him, knowing he’d been abused badly enough to not understand there was such a thing as gentle,  _ loving  _ sex, and not everything had to be violent and traumatising. 

“Peter…” Gamora laughed again.  “They’re having sex.” 

Peter shook his head.  He looked close to tears as he stomped his foot again.  “No, they’re not! If they were having sex, she would be crying and screaming!” 

“No, really…” Gamora rubbed the back of her head as she thought about how to explain things to him.  “Peter… I know you probably didn’t want them to, but Yondu and Kraglin have told us your father…  _ hurt  _ you.  But the kind of sex you understand isn’t…  Isn’t the  _ norm _ .” 

“Why would there be any other kind of sex?  It all ends in tears anyway…!” Peter muttered.  

“Peter.” Gamora took Peter by the cheeks and held his face in place so their eyes could lock.  “All you do is watch TV, and you’re trying to tell me you’ve  _ never  _ encountered a sex scene?” 

“I usually turn the movies off and don’t watch them again if there’s sex in them…” Peter whispered.  

Gamora sighed.  “Alright. Look.  The sex on this movie you don’t believe is sex?  That’s called making love.” 

“How is sex  _ love _ ?!” Peter snapped.  “That’s  _ stupid _ !” 

“ _ I  _ have sex,” Gamora said bluntly.  “ _ Ronan  _ has sex.  Hell,  _ Yondu  _ has sex.  Drax had a  _ daughter _ , Peter.  You  _ know  _ for a  _ fact  _ not  _ one  _ of us would engage in sex with someone if it wasn’t wanted!”

“No!  You’re  _ lying  _ to me!” Peter snapped.  “You’re  _ lying  _ because sex is  _ pain  _ and  _ fear  _ and  _ tears _ !  I  _ know  _ that, Gamora!  I  _ lived  _ that!” 

Gamora didn’t get a chance to respond because the bedroom door was opened and Yondu poked his head into the room.  “The hell ya yellin’ ‘bout, boy? We was out the back and we heard ya!” 

Peter let the tears fall down his cheeks as he pointed accusingly at Gamora and yelled, “Gamora’s lying to me!  She’s being a bitch and telling me lies!” 

Yondu stepped into the room, Kraglin following behind hesitantly.  He gave a deep sigh, knowing from Peter’s distress he was overreacting to something again.  “Pete, what you talkin’ ‘bout?” 

“She’s trying to tell me they aren’t cuddling and are having  _ sex _ !” Peter screamed.  He closed the distance between Yondu so he could shove at the man’s chest, not knowing how else to get his emotions out of him.  

Yondu just blinked.  He looked at the TV, recognising the movie that was playing, and flatly, he pointed out, “They are.” 

“They are  _ what _ ?!” Peter shoved again as another frustrated growl escaped him.

“Havin’ sex.” Yondu knew he should have had this talk with Peter  _ years  _ ago, but part of him had never known how to approach the subject with Peter.  He’d let it be, hoping the boy would figure things out on his own - but apparently it only made things worse because he hadn’t realised the extent Peter  _ loathed  _ sex.  “What else did ya think they were doin’?” 

“No!” Peter roared.  “No, they’re  _ not _ !  I keep saying that to Gamora but she doesn’t listen to me!  If they were, she’d be  _ crying _ !” 

“Pete, calm down.” Yondu grabbed Peter’s shoulders to hold him in place.  “We’re tellin’ ya the truth.” 

Peter used his weight to propel himself forward and shoulder Yondu square in the chest.  “ _ No, you’re not _ !” 

Kraglin, who had been standing so silently by the doorway, cleared his throat.  His hands fumbled as he mumbled, “Can I have five minutes ‘lone with ‘im…?” 

Gamora moved to wait in the living room. Yondu, before he left, muttered, “Yell if he gets too violent, Krag…”

Once they were alone, Kraglin looked to his feet and whispered, “They aren’t lying to ya, Petey…” 

A betrayed whimper escaped Peter’s chest.  “But, Krag…  _ You  _ should understand…” 

“I  _ do _ ,” Kraglin promised. “I really do, Pete.  But they aren’t lyin’ to ya. I… When my brother would…  When he’d rape me, he’d make it as violent an’ scary for me as he could…  But I know sex isn’ s’posed to be like that, Pete… What we’ve experienced…  We got the worst of it… We were  _ raped _ …  The worst kinda sex there is…  But what happened to us  _ isn’t  _ how sex  _ is _ .”

“How can it be different?!” Peter exasperated.  “How can  _ anyone  _ want that?!”

“People want it ‘cause it makes ‘em feel good.” Kraglin shrugged.  “It’s… I know it’s hard for ya to comprehend… But most people really enjoy sex.” 

“But  _ you  _ don’t…” Peter whispered. 

Kraglin gave another shrug.  “Don’t want sex; not unless I love the other person… I know not everyone’s my brother, Petey…  And not everyone is your  _ father _ .” 

“I don’t understand…” Peter felt a fresh wave of tears roll down his cheeks.  “Sex…” 

“Sex  _ can  _ be fright’ning… I know, Petey…  But if ya really love someone, ya can… Well, ya might find you enjoy it…” 

There was a heavy silence that hung uncomfortably in the air for several minutes until Peter finally whispered, “When Ego would…  When Ego would come to Peter’s - t-to my room, I… I’d wet myself because I knew what he wanted… He kept me chained up… Sometimes he…  He’d take me to his room and to  _ his  _ bed so m-mom…” 

Kraglin rushed to Peter’s side to wrap his arm around Peter’s shoulders as Peter burst into tears, bawling his eyes out and  _ screaming _ .  “Hey, hey, s’okay.  Petey, shh…” 

Peter rocked back and forth for a while until he wailed, “I still feel so filthy and disgusting, Krag!  Sometimes I wake up at night and I  _ feel  _ it all again!  I always dream about it and I hate it so much, Krag! I hate it so much!” 

“Pete…” 

“When Yondu asks me why I keep showering so much in one day, I never know what to say because I don’t want him to know I  _ have  _ to get in there and scrub my skin raw because all I feel is  _ him  _ touching me!  Why did he do this to me, Krag?!   _ Why?! _  I never did  _ anything  _ to him! I only ever tried to be a good boy!” 

Kraglin felt tears of his own well in his eyes; Peter had never spoken so much about this before, and he felt like Peter was describing himself. He held Peter tighter.  “Nothin’ he ever did to ya was your fault, Petey… I  _ swear _ that to you…” 

“I hate sex so much…” Peter sobbed. “I hate  _ him  _ so much…” 

“I know…” Kraglin whispered. “I know, Petey…  Come back out to Yondu now, ‘kay? He’s gonna be worried ‘bout ya.” 

Peter nodded. He allowed Kraglin to get Peter to his feet and lead him out to the living room, and as soon as he was there, he didn’t hesitate to hug Gamora in silent apology.  

But  _ Yondu _ … 

Peter engulfed him in a hug so tight, Yondu almost felt his spine misalign.  He knew Peter was remorseful for his prior behaviour, but he said nothing about it; he just returned the embrace and let Peter sob his heart out. 

Peter still didn’t understand what everyone was trying to tell him, but if  _ Kraglin  _ had defended sex…

Then perhaps Peter should think about what he’d been told. 


	12. Chapter 12

“The hell did I just walk in on?” Yondu rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.  He blinked. He blinked some more. Then he realised he wasn’t hallucinating, and he blinked a third time in disbelief.  “I feel like I should leave…” 

“No, don’t leave!” Peter cried from where he was curled up in the corner of his bedroom, with his hands outstretched in front of him to try and fend off the dress jacket Mantis was intent on putting on him. “She’s crazy, Yondu!  _ Crazy _ !” 

Yondu stared for a few seconds as he watched Mantis fight her way past Peter’s hands and slip a tie around his neck.  He cocked his head to the side. “Why the fancy stuff, boy? You a big CEO now or somethin’?” 

The bitterness in Yondu’s tone told Peter he was still upset at Peter abandoning him for a damned  _ doctor’s clinic,  _ but even so, there was still amusement in his tone.  Peter couldn’t focus on that right now, though; he had to escape the suit of death. 

“Yondu,  _ help _ !” Peter yelped.  

Yondu chuckled. He stepped into the bedroom to reach out and pull Peter to his feet.  He looked at Mantis, but there was no annoyance or protectiveness in his eyes; he knew Peter thought of her as his big sister, and thus she was one of the very few who could corner him like this.  “What’s the suit for?” 

“Quill has a  _ date _ ~!” Mantis cooed. “I am helping him look all nice~” 

Peter’s cheeks flushed. “Mantis!  It’s not a date! She’s just my friend!” 

“What friend?” Yondu’s lips pursed in a firm pout, jealous beyond all belief someone else knew of this before Peter had told him. 

“My friend from work!” Peter puffed his cheeks out in displeasure as he ducked around Mantis to hide behind Yondu from the suit she still held to him threateningly.  “She said I could come ‘round tonight…” 

“And so it’s a date~!” Mantis cooed again.  

“But it’s  _ not! _ ” Peter whined.  “I think she’s plenty pretty!  ...But I don’t… I don’t like  _ anyone  _ like that…”

“I’m just pissed ya didn’t tell me you made a new friend…” Yondu muttered. 

“I  _ did _ !” Peter exclaimed.  “I  _ did  _ tell you but you tuned me out again because when I said that Yondu sucks, you  _ nodded  _ at me!” 

“...Oh…  Okay. Also, might help if ya don’t talk someone’s ears off all day; I mighta been listenin’ to ya when ya said it.” Yondu’s shoulders relaxed as he let out a sigh of relief.  “Okay. Enjoy yer date. Ya need me to get you supplies?” 

“ _ Yondu _ !” Peter screeched as his face burned red.  “ _ Stop it! _ ”

Yondu laughed loudly as he turned to leave the bedroom.  He left the younger two behind, Mantis yet again trying to get Peter into the suit. 

“Mantis,  _ please _ !” Peter wiped his hands down his favourite red leather jacket to show it off.  “What I’m wearing is  _ fine _ !  I just need your help with  _ other  _ stuff!” 

Mantis never stopped smiling as she moved to lay the suit down carefully on Peter’s bed.  She sat on the edge and swung her legs back and forth contently as she raked her eyes up and down Peter’s body.  “You are very handsome already, Quill~”

“No, I’m not; I’m  _ hideous _ and that’s why no one likes me being around them!” Peter argued.  “That’s why I want to make sure I don’t look  _ horrible  _ today - I…  I kinda want to keep this friend…” 

Mantis shared empathetic traits with Peter, and that was why she felt her emotions drop at the self-loathing and loneliness Peter was experiencing.  She leant forward, hoping that her firm tone would make Peter believe her. “I mean it, Quill… You are  _ very  _ handsome.  Very cute, even~” 

Peter shook his head, unable to undo nineteen years of self-hatred and disgust in one minute.  He was silent for a few seconds before he whispered, “Is my hair okay…?” 

“Do you have a comb?  I will fix it for you~” 

Peter relaxed as Mantis took his comb and gently ran it through his hair.  He leant into her touch as he asked, “And my teeth…?” 

“They look cleaner than they used to,” Mantis promised, referring to the decay that had built up over fourteen years and almost left Peter toothless.  “Don’t be so self-conscious; you are fixing your teeth and that is all that matters~” 

Peter didn’t speak again until Mantis had finished with his hair and smoothed his clothing down.  He stared down at his feet as he whispered, “I stink, don’t I…?”

Mantis leant in close to sniff. Truthfully, she smiled and announced, “Nope!  You showered today~!” 

Peter wasn’t convinced.  With self-loathing thick in his tone, he mumbled, “Can you get me Yondu’s cologne, please…?” 

“You already sprayed yourself with it three times,” Mantis pointed out.  “Deodorant, too. I promise you smell good, Quill~” 

Peter mumbled under his breath, but he let it go.  Shakily, he sat on his bed and pulled his knees to his chest.  “Okay… I need help knowing what to talk about.” 

Mantis laughed.  “Quill, you  _ never  _ have problems keeping a conversation going because you like to talk just to hear yourself~!” 

Peter moaned uncomfortably.  He let go of his legs so he could lay down and rest his head on Mantis’ lap, snuggling in close against her.  “It’s different… I  _ know  _ you guys…” 

Mantis smiled.  She reached out to adjust the collar of Peter’s jacket again before she murmured, “You are going to be  _ fine~”  _

Peter sighed. He wrapped his arm loosely around Mantis’ waist as he buried his face against her stomach.  “Yondu wanted me to make more friends… But I don’t know if I’m ready…” 

Mantis dragged her fingers slowly through Peter’s hair as she hummed.  “But making friends is good~” 

Peter stayed silent as he felt Mantis moving so she was laying beside him. He snuggled in against her, his head under her chin as he closed his eyes and whispered, “Val’s nice to me…  She reminds me of Gamora sorta…” 

Mantis understood then; Peter was desperate to feel accepted and  _ wanted _ , and though he was too afraid to put himself into new situations, he would cling to anything familiar to make him feel better inside.  “Then you will make a good friend~”

Peter sighed wistfully.  “She’s moving away, though…  She said she wants to drink with me before she goes…”

Mantis frowned.  The loneliness wafting from Peter was almost unbearable.  She couldn’t understand how he’d been able to live feeling the way he does for so long; moments like these were enough to make her want to cry, let alone having to live like it.  

But, no matter how painful it was, it showed Peter’s strength, and his will to push forward.  Mantis couldn’t ever give him the credit he deserved for his courage.

* * *

 

Mantis had been right, Peter found, an hour later as he sat on his new friend’s couch.  It wasn’t as scary visiting Val’s home as he’d anticipated, and easily enough he’d fallen into the familiar comfort he felt when visiting his other friends. 

Evidence to this was the fact that he felt at ease enough to bring up Mantis wanting him to be on a date. 

Peter took a gulp of his beer as a smile crossed his face. “Hey, Val, my sister was convinced I was on a date.  She even tried getting me in a suit and everything.” 

Peter’s long-haired friend snorted from where she lay on the other couch, surrounded by empty liquor bottles.  “Funny you say that; I’m not even into guys. Chicks are more my thing.” 

Peter frowned. “You like girlfriends…?” 

“Yeah - I’ve had a few over the years.  My good friend, Thor, always tries talking me into letting him watch.” Val shrugged.  “Wouldn’t mind that, really; he’s a good lookin’ guy.” 

Peter hummed.  “...How… do you have a girlfriend…?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“...S-sex…” Peter’s face flushed again. 

“What, you don’t know how two women fuck?” Val could hardly believe it; such a good looking boy -  _ clueless _ .  She almost smirked, sensing an opportunity for her filthy mind to…  _ tutor  _ him in the ways of lesbian sex. “Please tell me you at least know how a man and a woman fuck.” 

Peter cleared his throat uncomfortably as he shook his head.  “No…” 

“You must be into guys,” Val realised.  She drank down the rest of her whiskey before she tossed the bottle carelessly over the back of the couch.

Peter twitched nervously.  “...M-my friend, Ronan… He says I like other men…  But I don’t think that I do… I’m  _ scared  _ of other men…  I know that they hurt you when they have sex with you… It’s why I don’t want to have sex with anyone - because I don’t want to hurt anybody…” 

Val found her tone softening.  “You’ve has some bad encounters with other men, haven’t you…?”

“Yes…” 

“But not every guy is like that, and that doesn’t mean  _ you  _ have to, too,” Val promised.  “My friend I mentioned. Thor.  Biggest hornball I’ve ever met. Sleeps with someone new every day.  He hits on anyone and everyone, but the second someone looks uneasy around him or says no, he apologises and goes to find someone else.  He’s a lot of things, but I’d trust him enough to sleep beside him  _ naked _ .” 

“You would…?” Peter whispered in disbelief. 

“Yeah.  There  _ is  _ scummy guys out there, but not everyone is like that.” 

Peter hummed again.  “...Ronan said to me once…  He wouldn’t mind sleeping with me…  I kinda… I froze up, but he… He didn’t do anything to me…  He just…  _ left.  _  He never said that to me again…  But see, he’s this really big, strong guy, and I know if he wanted to, he could hold me down and -!  ...But I don’t think he would do that to me… To anyone… He’s too…  _ nice.”’ _

“See, you know deep down not everyone is bad,” Val pointed out. 

Peter nodded.  “...I, umm… I… I’ve never seen a girl naked before…  How do you…?” 

Val snorted. She got up from amongst her empty liquor bottles and moved to take some video tapes without cases from the shelf.  “You can have these. Just make sure to watch them when you’re alone.” 

Peter blushed at the wink he was presented with.  Nervously, he accepted the videos, not sure if he would watch them or not - but at least, if he ever got too curious, he could put a video on and learn without having to ask anyone else. “T-thanks…” 

“You’ll  _ really  _ be thanking me later.”  Val’s smirk widened. “You want the cases to the videos for you to look at?  They have…  _ nice  _ pictures on them.”

Peter thought long and hard about it, but finally, he gave a nod.  “Okay…” 

Val left to disappear down the hallway, but when she returned, she held out two video cases.  Peter’s face burnt as he looked at the artwork, and when he spoke, his tone was strained. “These are like the videos Yondu keeps his under his bed…”

Val laughed. “It’s the good stuff. You’ll enjoy them; I promise.” 

Peter nodded again.  “I… I…”

Peter wasn’t sure he  _ would  _ enjoy them, but he trusted women  _ much  _ more than he trusted other men; if Val promised him something… 

Then perhaps she would be right.

* * *

 

When Yondu got Peter home that night, he was curious about the videos in the plastic bag Peter held to his lap in a death grip.  His curiosity only mounted even more when they’d gotten home and Peter had done everything he could to hide what was in there from Yondu. 

“So…” Yondu raised his eyebrow. “What ya got?  Videos? Can I watch ‘em after ya?” 

“ _ No _ !” Peter squealed.  He scooped the bag up and held them to his chest, keeping his back to Yondu.  “They’re…! ...They’re  _ scary  _ movies, Yondu!” 

“I like horror movies, Petey,” Yondu teased. “Halloween… Friday Thirteenth… Hey, how ‘bout ya put those videos on in the livin’ room and we’ll watch ‘em together?  I need a good horror movie tonight.” 

Peter spluttered before he fled to his bedroom, Yondu’s cackling following him the whole way.  Once he’d shut his bedroom door, he went to his bed to take the videos out of the bag. He gave a soft sigh as he looked again at the pictures on the cases, for the first time in his life feeling sexual reaction to something. 

Peter tensed, but he remembered his long talk with Val; how he should at least try exploring himself before he came to any decisions on not wanting sex.  But no matter how hard he tried to talk himself into doing so, Peter found himself hiding his new videos under his bed and then going to sleep. 

  
  



	13. Chapter 13

“Can I tell you a secret…?” 

When Peter whispered so timidly, Kraglin knew it was time to be worried.  He put the safety back on the gun he’d been shooting cans with before he gestured to the bed of his old truck for them to sit in.  “What’s up, Pete?” 

Peter put his own gun on safety and rested it beside him as he mumbled, “Promise you won’t tell Yondu…?” 

“Depends what you wanna tell me; ya know that,” Kraglin reminded gently.  “Are ya okay?” 

Peter nodded.  “I just don’t want Yondu to know… ‘cause it’s embarrassing… I didn’t hurt myself or anything; I promise, Krag…” 

Kraglin still reached out to pull Peter’s sleeves back and examine the scarred, burnt flesh in search of anything fresh that couldn’t be explained easily.  When he found none, he murmured, “Nothin’ on yer hips or thighs, Petey…?” 

“No; I promise,” Peter whispered.  “It’s just… I think Yondu would laugh at me if he knew, but I know you wouldn’t.  So I wanna talk to you about it… Please?”

Kraglin reached into the ice cooler to grab a can of whiskey as he nodded. “Sure, Pete. Ya can talk to me ‘bout anythin’; ya know that.” 

Peter hummed in agreement.  “Okay… It’s just… My friend who moved away a few years ago…  You remember Val?”

“Girl ya used to work with.” Kraglin nodded.  “What ‘bout her?” 

“Well…” Peter scratched his cheek shyly.  “...It’s just… Before she moved away, she gave me some…  Some  _ videos…   _ I kept them under my bed ‘cause I didn’t want Yondu to find them, but…  See, I never really watched them; I just… I liked to look at the pictures sometimes…” 

Kraglin drank his whiskey as he waited patiently for Peter to get to the point. “...”

“It’s just…” Peter’s face turned red as he tried to decide how to tell Kraglin what was on his mind.  “...I watched them for the first time last night, but I… I-I…”

“Ya talkin’ ‘bout watchin’ porn, Pete?” Kraglin asked tenderly. 

Peter nodded.  “But I couldn’t…  I-I… It… I didn’t…  _ feel  _ anything, Krag…” 

“What ya mean?  It didn’t get ya hard?” 

“No, it did, but…” Peter chewed his lip.  “...Val said it would…  _ feel good _ …” 

“It didn’t feel good ta touch yourself?” Kraglin continued on when he received a nod in response.  “Did ya come?” 

“Huh?” Peter cocked his head to the side.  “Come where?”

“No, I mean, did ya have an orgasm,” Kraglin clarified. 

“I don’t know… What’s an orgasm?” Peter felt his heart start to race; this was too stressful… 

Kraglin cleared his throat.  “Did ya… Know what? Never mind; you’d know if ya came or not.” 

Peter looked up when he felt droplets of rain hit his nose.  “Krag, is there something wrong with me…?” 

“Nah, yer probably fine; it just didn’t feel good ‘cause it’s yer first time touchin’ yerself, and ya got anxiety and depression and those memories makin’ it hard for it ta feel good.” Kraglin took another gulp of his whiskey before he muttered, “Happens to me, too, sometimes, Petey…” 

“You…  You, umm…  You do it, too, Krag…?” 

Kraglin nodded.  “Yeah, sometimes.  I know what ya mean, though; sometimes I can’t come, either.  Ya just gotta get comfortable with it, Petey; yer only twenty-two; got plenty o’ time.” 

“Does it mean I gotta start having sex if I…?” Peter trailed off, but Kraglin understood the unspoken question.  

“Nah, Pete; I don’t sleep with anyone; not until I find someone I love,” Kraglin mumbled.  “You don’t gotta be with anyone if ya don’t wanna…” 

Peter nodded.  He leant against Kraglin so he could get his own whiskey can from the cooler and open it.  “Yondu would laugh at me if he knew…” 

“Why would he laugh?” Kraglin wrapped his arm around Peter’s shoulders and held him close.  

“‘Cause he always tells people how I don’t… touch myself…  And he sounds so disappointed in me…” 

“Trust me, Pete; he’s  _ glad  _ he don’t gotta worry ‘bout you knockin’ some girl up.  He don’t care what ya do in yer bedroom; he just worries that yer never gonna fall in love.” 

“He wants me to be in love…?” 

“He wants whatever would make ya happy,” Kraglin promised.  “He loves ya so much, Petey…” 

“I know he does…” Peter looked to his feet. “I love him, too…” 

They fell into a comfortable silence at that, but Peter couldn’t stay that way for long; curling up against Kraglin’s chest, he let out a small whine.  

“Wha’s wrong?” Kraglin threaded his fingers through Peter’s soft hair, just relieved that Peter seemed well enough to be showering more often these days now that he had a job and university to get him out of bed during the day. 

“...” Peter curled closer against Kraglin.  “...It’s just… A girl tried to kiss me yesterday…” 

Kraglin almost choked on his whiskey. “ _ What _ .” 

“...She’s in one of my classes at university…  She asked me to help her with the graphs in our Economics class…  So I went to her house last night, and we…” 

Kraglin was shocked, having expected anything but this conversation. “...” 

“So I helped her, and we…” Peter looked away as a red tint coated his cheeks.  “...We…  _ cuddled _ …” 

“You  _ cuddled _ .” Kraglin didn’t know what to say; what kind of cuddling was Peter talking about…?  “The cuddling ya like from TV, or the kind o’ cuddlin’ ya like with yer friends?” 

Peter frowned. “...I… I don’t know…  It was sorta like on the TV, but sorta like with my friends, too…  We were on her bed, kinda laying on our sides… And we were hugging and moving against each other, but… She kept sliding her hands around on top of my clothes, and then she tried to kiss me…” 

“You didn’t wanna be kissed?” 

Peter’s frown grew.  “I don’t know… But I think I upset her ‘cause I wasn’t…  I wasn’t  _ hard… _ ” 

“Ya just wanted to be close to someone, didn’t ya…?” Kraglin held Peter tighter, knowing how desperate his mind was to hold and be held.  “Just wanna feel like yer safe…” 

Peter nodded.  “...But it’s weird, Krag, cause I sorta…  I sorta  _ was  _ getting a bit…  But I don’t know why because whenever I think about having sex, I get  _ scared _ .” 

“Nah, that was just yer body doin’ its thing,” Kraglin promised.  

Peter hummed. He picked at his sleeves before he whispered, “I think I wanna kiss someone…  And I think I want…  _ touch _ …”’

Kraglin  prepared himself for an outburst at the way Peter’s body started to quiver with emotion.  “Relax, Petey.” 

A sob tore its way from Peter’s throat as he yelled, “And I think I want to try sex but I don’t  _ want  _ to have sex and I  _ hate  _ feeling like this!  I  _ hate  _ it!  I hate Ego, and I hate my body, and I hate  _ me! _  I wanna cut my dick off, Kraglin!  I  _ hate  _ it! I hate, I hate it,  _ I hate it _ !” 

“Shh.  No one’s makin’ ya have sex with anyone,” Kraglin tried to soothe.  “Don’t cut it off, Pete; promise me ya ain’t gonna do anythin’ to yerself like that.” 

“No!” Peter snapped. “I don’t  _ want  _ sex so I wanna cut it off so people don’t want it from me, either!” 

“I’ll tell Yondu,” Kraglin warned, hoping the threat would be enough for Peter to realise how irrational he was being.  “I’ll tell ‘im yer worryin’ me an’ he’ll take ya back to the therapist.” 

“I don’t  _ care!  _  I’ll shoot myself in the head if I have to!” It was at those words Kraglin scurried to put the guns away and lock them out of Peter’s reach.  “My mind is  _ stupid  _ ‘cause it  _ wants  _ to have sex!  I  _ hate  _ it!” 

Kraglin reached into his pocket to get his MP3 Player once Peter started slamming his head against the rear window of his truck.  He put the headphones in Peter’s ears, relieved that Peter wasn’t fighting him. “Listen to some music and then talk to me, Petey.” 

Peter’s eyes closed.  He raised his hand to his mouth, his teeth sinking into his flesh hard enough to leave bite marks in his wake.  Kraglin wasn’t sure Peter even was aware of his actions when he did these things to himself. 

The music helped to regulate his emotions, albeit at a slow rate, but once he stopped hitting his head against whatever he could, and he felt level-headed enough to talk again, he gave an exhausted sigh and mumbled, “Sorry, Krag…  I just… got stressed…” 

“I know.  It’s okay.” Kraglin patted Peter’s back.  “You ‘kay now?” 

“Yeah…  Can we shoot some more cans before it rains properly?” 

“I don’t know, Pete; ya threatened to shoot yerself in the head…” Kraglin chewed at his lip.  “Maybe tomorrow…”

Peter’s eyes closed again as he whimpered in resignation. “Are you gonna tell Yondu on me…?” 

“Ya know I gotta,” Kraglin soothed.  

“He’ll lecture me again…” Peter pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.  

“No, he won’t; I’ll tell ‘im to leave ya ‘lone ‘bout it,” Kraglin promised.  “He just gotta know in case somethin’ happens.” 

“He’ll take me back to the doctors and they’ll treat me like I’m crazy again and give me even more medicine to take every day and they’ll tell me they’ll put me in the mental hospital like they used to…” Peter whispered timidly.  

Kraglin sighed.  “Petey… I gotta tell ‘im cause we  _ care  _ ‘bout ya…  We don’t want anythin’ happenin’ to ya, Pete.” 

“Well,  _ I  _ dont want anything to happen to  _ you _ , and  _ you  _ tried to  _ kill yourself  _ a month ago!” Peter snapped.  “I cried for a  _ week  _ until Yondu said you’d be okay!” 

Kraglin fell silent.  He bowed his head, and finally, he nodded.  “...Sorry, Petey… I won’t tell him this time…  But next time I will. ‘Kay?” 

“‘Kay…” Peter sighed.  “Can we  _ please  _ shoot some more?  I was having fun!” 

“Okay…  But I’m watchin’ ya, Pete.  I’ll shoot ya hand if ya point yer gun at yourself.” Kraglin warned.

“No, you wouldn’t; you love me too much to hurt me.” Peter wiped his tears away as a tiny smile crossed his face. But then, his smile vanished as a frown took its place. “Krag…?  I’m sorry… I-I don’t mean to worry you… I’m not gonna… I won’t cut it off or shoot myself… I don’t know why I said those things to you...” 

“Good, ‘cause if ya tried ta, I’d chop yer fingers off myself.”  Kraglin offered his own small smile. 

“And then Yondu will kick your ass!” Peter teased back as his smile returned.  

Kraglin chuckled.  “It’s good to see ya happy, Pete.” 

“You too, Krag.” Peter pounded forward so fast, Kraglin felt him rather than saw him coming.  He wrapped his arms around Kraglin and held on so tight, he was sure he heard a few bones pop. 

Peter didn’t let go for quite a while, but that was okay; all that mattered was they were content in the moment. 


	14. Chapter 14

The first thing that left Peter’s mouth when he saw Val standing in the foyer of his university was  _ probably  _ rude, but he was too surprised to think before he spoke.  “You told me you weren’t coming back, Val; you aren’t supposed to be here!  Why are you  _ here _ ?!”

But if Val had taken any offence, it didn’t show.  Instead, her lips curled as a chuckle escaped. “Yeah, nice to see you, too, Quill.” 

Peter was too stunned to take much notice of the guy she was standing with - not until he moved, and Peter flew backwards with a hiss and almost knocked Gamora off her feet.  

Gamora sighed as she peered down at Peter, laying on the ground where he had tripped and fallen.  “He was scratching his cheek, Peter…” 

Peter’s eyes flickered between the two girls and the young man he didn’t think he’d met before.  His body was tense, but though he was almost able to control his nervousness, his uneasiness turned to pure terror as the man reached down towards him, and his bulging muscles rippled with every movement. 

Peter let out a frightened yelp and brought his arm up to shield his face. He kicked one of his legs out at the man to get him away as he bit out in an agitated tone, “Don’t!  Don’t come near me, asshole!” 

Gamora stepped in at the look of hurt and confusion on the other man’s face.  She moved between the two, reaching down to get Peter off the ground as she said, “I’m sorry about Peter; he doesn’t like people getting too close to him.”’

The hurt expression the man donned didn’t completely vanish, but he did smile understandingly as he held his hand out to Gamora.  “My name is Thor. Your friend is Peter?” 

“He goes by Quill to most people.” Gamora stayed close to Peter’s side, knowing he needed her; Peter attending the local university with her and their other friends had brought out a side of him even Yondu hadn’t seen before, and it wasn’t exactly pretty.  “Not many people call him Peter.” 

Thor’s smile became more relaxed now that Peter was hiding partially behind Gamora.  Though Peter continued to glare loathingly at him, Thor was able to ignore it; he’d had plenty of practise doing so with his brother, after all.  “Val and I have been talking, and since she will be staying for a few weeks, she was intending on throwing a party. You two are welcome to come if you would like.” 

Peter’s harsh declination of the offer was overthrown by Gamora’s louder voice as she accepted the offer.  He whined softly at her, looking at her with betrayed eyes; she knew how much he struggled being around people, so why would she…?

“Peter will be there,” Gamora promised.  She then spun around to face Peter. “And  _ you  _ won’t be arguing with me about it since Yondu’s out of town.  You’re coming with us whether you like it or not.” 

Peter hadn’t seen the way Thor’s eyes wandered up and down his body at Gamora’s words.  It was probably a good thing, though; whether or not he’d have understood the implications of the thoughts running through Thor’s mind, he was liable to throw a fit over the unwanted attention.  

Gamora noticed it, though.  She noticed, but she never said a word about it. 

“I look forward to seeing you both there.” The suggestive expression on Thor’s face only matched his purr.  Peter was oblivious, but Gamora couldn’t help but raise her eyebrow as she watched him leave. 

“That guy’s a playboy, I’m sure,” Gamora said to Peter as she turned around to lead him towards their classroom.  

“What’s a playboy?” Peter’s body was relaxed, and all the distress he’d felt just moments ago was gone at Thor’s absence.  

Gamora fixed Peter with a look of disbelief.  “You don’t know what a playboy is? After  _ all  _ the years you’ve known Ronan for?” 

“Oh.” Peter clicked on now.  He gave a deep frown. “I don’t like him, Gamora…  He’s big and loud, and he… I don’t like him. I think he likes you.” 

“Really?” Gamora battled hard to keep the smirk from her face.  “I don’t believe that.” 

“Well,  _ I  _ do, and I don’t like him for liking you!” Peter exclaimed.  “You’re  _ my  _ friend!” 

Gamora shrugged nonchalantly.  “You can share.” 

“I don’t wanna, though~” Peter was glad he wasn’t carrying anything with him so he could wrap his arms around Gamora and embrace her tightly.  “I don’t wanna share my Gamora with anyone~” 

“Come to the party tonight and I might think about making your wishes a reality,” Gamora teased.  

Peter grumbled to himself for a few seconds before he gave a reluctant nod.  “Only ‘cause I don’t want Gamora making better friends than me…” 

Gamora patted Peter’s shoulder sympathetically.  “I won’t, Peter. I like you, even if you  _ are  _ annoying sometimes.” 

Peter laughed, that childlike innocence spread across his face that was so rare to see on him bringing out a smile on Gamora’s own face.  Peter wasn’t okay, Gamora knew, but he was getting there -  _ slowly _ .  

* * *

 

Peter  _ hated  _ parties.  He didn’t mind them when Yondu held them at their home with his friends, but that was different because Peter knew and trusted Yondu’s friends, and he had his bedroom to escape to whenever he became overwhelmed.

But here in Val’s house, the only escape from the deafening,  _ suffocating  _ congregation he wanted nothing to do with that was available to him was to stay by Gamora’s side and count down the seconds until Ronan would be back to pick them up and take them home. 

As it stood, Peter had stayed curled up on the living room couch for the entirety of their stay, consuming bottle after bottle of alcohol in hopes it would make the evening just a little more bearable.  It dulled him inside, but perhaps a little  _ too  _ well, because when Gamora had eventually disappeared from his side, and the girl from one of his classes who hadn’t left him alone for hours now became bolder in chatting him up, Peter felt too numb to really even notice what was going on.

“So, you and Gamora…” The girl moved closer to Peter, sliding along the couch and resting her head against the back of it near his shoulder.  “How long have you two been dating?” 

“We aren’t,” Peter clarified.  He rubbed at his itching eyes, wanting so badly to sleep.  “We’re friends…” 

Peter didn’t recognise the look that crossed the girl’s face at those words, but regardless, it broke through his inner numbness and made him uncomfortable.  She moved closer, laying her hand between them, so close to Peter’s knee, she felt his body heat through his jeans. “That’s good… I always thought you two were together because I never see you away from her.” 

Peter sighed.  While he was much more comfortable being around women than he was other men, he still had a short temper, and he desperately needed his own space from people he didn’t know well.  “She’s my friend.”

Peter shuddered when she leant in so close to him, her hot breath billowed against his neck.  His body tensed and his eyes squeezed shut as she whispered to him, “There’s a spare bedroom here…  We could go in and lock the doors and…” 

Peter cringed when he felt a hand slide up his thigh, too close to his groin for comfort.  He tried to move away, but the arm of the couch stopped him from going far. He shook his head.  “...No…” 

“Come on, it’ll be  _ fine _ !” She purred.  She grabbed a half-drank bottle of beer from the coffee table in front of them so she could hand it to Peter, just as she’d been doing all night.  “Just drink a little more, okay? It’ll be alright; no one has to know~” 

Those words did things to Peter’s mind and emotions he felt so  _ stuck  _ on venting, he could only let out a strangled whimper and reach up to rip at his hair with wide eyes.  “...” 

“Shh…” The girl’s lips trailed soft kisses down Peter’s neck.  She touched the back of his hand encouragingly. “Come on; I’ll take care of you~” 

Peter felt helpless as he was pulled to his feet and dragged throughout the house.  He felt eyes watching him as he stumbled out of the living room, and turning his head over his shoulder to see who it was, he found Thor standing in the kitchen doorway, watching with knowing eyes.  

Peter groaned loudly in displeasure after he’d been pushed through a bedroom door and onto a bed.  He flinched when hands grabbed his shoulders and laid him down on his back, his heart beating so fast, it was deafening in his ears.  

“Baby, you’re so cute.” She smiled down at Peter as she slowly straddled his hips.  “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long…” 

Peter didn’t respond; his mind too clouded to acknowledge much happening around him.  He felt the bitterness churning in his stomach at the weight on top of him, loathing for himself and every other person in the world filling his heart and tainting his already-frayed mind.  

Her hands fumbled drunkenly with the fastenings of Peter’s jeans, but she didn’t care; she still purred out, “I’m gonna suck your dick~” 

A soft growl of anger escaped Peter’s lips.  Years upon  _ years  _ of conditioning by Ego kept his body still and compliant beneath her hands, training he’d thought he’d long-since grown out of but still seemed to haunt him keeping him vulnerable to anyone’s ill wishes. 

And then, for the first time in so many years, he felt a hand wrap around him. 

Peter’s mind snapped.  He heard himself snarl, and he felt his mind  _ twisting,  _ but he had no awareness of him flipping them over and pinning her beneath him; all he knew was that his face had warped  into loathing, and he had her trapped with his own body. 

“Oh, kinky.” Her smirk turned upwards, and all it did was increase the rage trapped deep in Peter’s heart.  “You gonna fuck me like an animal?” 

Peter didn’t know what had come over him.  He’d always viewed sex as a weapon, as a tool to spread pain and fear.  It’d been his number one reason why he’d remained so anti-sex for this long, but here and now… 

Peter felt the rage and the resentment and the  _ sadness  _ consuming him, and it guided his body in moving the way it did.  

He’d never wanted to hurt people before.   _ Never _ .  All he’d ever wanted was to love and be loved.  But right here, in this room…

All Peter wanted was to  _ hurt _ .  He’d allowed his memories to control him, mimicking his past and doing his damned hardest to inflict the same kind of emotions he’d  _ always  _ felt onto this girl he  _ knew  _ didn’t deserve it. 

But whatever Peter had been trying to accomplish didn’t work as the girl lay beneath him, moaning, digging her long nails into his now-naked shoulders as he thrust as hard and fast as he could into her.  There was no pleasure in what he was doing; nothing physical, save for a bit of mental pleasure that this wasn’t happening to  _ him  _ for once.

“Peter…” 

Her moan was  _ nothing  _ like  _ his  _ had been back with Ego.  There was no fear or pain in her voice; just pure…  _ want _ ?  Is that how Peter would describe it? 

Whatever the reason, Peter’s mind was clearing.  His thrusts became steadily gentler as pleasure slowly built up and worked itself into a single moan that escaped him, until he stopped altogether, ignoring her disappointed groan as he pulled out and got off the bed to put his clothing back on.  

“Where are you going?” She called after him, but Peter didn’t turn around; he didn’t even  _ stop;  _ he just walked out of the room to find Gamora.  

Peter didn’t get far down the hallway before he’d ran into Thor.  He mumbled something under his breath as he tried to stumble away again, but Thor grabbed his wrist and stopped him.  

Thor ignored the weak struggles from intoxication as his eyes searched Peter’s eyes desperately.  There was sympathy on his face, and his soft tone finally explained it. “You did not want that, did you…?” 

“None o’ ya business…” Peter muttered.  “Fuck off… Want ‘Mora…” 

“She is with Val,” Thor said softly.  “There is a bed for you to sleep on until you are taken home.” 

“Not tired…  Leave me ‘lone…” Peter wasn’t sure he could lay the blame entirely on the alcohol for just how exhausted and  _ clouded  _ his mind had become again within seconds, but he didn’t care; he tugged his wrist weakly again before he sighed and sat down where he’d stood.  “Fuck… Whatever… J-just… Just do whatever with me… I don’t care anymore…” 

Thor sighed.  He knelt down to scoop Peter up into his arms and carry him through the long, winding hallways.  Peter didn’t protest; instead, he whispered, “I don’t want to hurt  _ anyone _ …” 

Thor didn’t ask questions; he just held Peter tighter against him as he walked.  

Once he’d gotten Peter into bed, he went to find Gamora and explain the situation.  He stood on standby as she called her brother to come and get them, and when he arrived, Thor watched on as he carried Peter out to the car to take him home for the night.

Come the next morning, when Peter would wake up with a raging hangover, he wouldn’t remember much of Thor and the kindness he’d been shown.  

* * *

 

Peter’s eyes opened to a pitch-black room. He moaned loudly at the splitting pain in his head, remembering now why he’d stopped drinking for the most part. He sat up, wondering where he was; it was too dark to make anything out, and the fact that he couldn’t feel a lamp beside him told him he probably wasn’t in his own bed. 

“Yondu…?” Peter groaned as he slowly sat up.  Had he gone out of town with Yondu again? It wasn’t unusual for him to accompany the man out of state to work on broken-down semi trucks; was he at a motel…? 

The answer to his question came in the form of the bedroom door opening, and a large, hulking figure standing in the doorway with the hallway light filtering behind him. 

“Why are you awake so early?”

Peter relaxed as he recognised Ronan’s voice. “How’d I get here…?”

“I carried you.  You were sleeping.”  Ronan stepped further into the room to observe Peter’s dark shape better.  

“Where’d you carry me from…?  Was I heavy…?” 

Ronan rolled his eyes.  “I carried you from my car after you drank yourself half to death at your friend’s home.  There is water and painkillers on the bedside table for you.” 

“Thanks, Ro…” Peter murmured.  He leant across to take the items, listening as Ronan came to sit on the bed beside him.  He swallowed the painkillers before he asked, “Why are  _ you  _ awake…?” 

“I was leaving for the gym when I heard you calling your foster father.  Are you okay?” 

Peter nodded.  He laid back down and draped his arm over his eyes to block out the hallway lights.  “Ro… I think I had sex last night…” 

“You did; Gamora was told all about it.” Ronan’s voice lowered slightly, but Peter still recognised the sympathy in his tone.  “She was told you said no at the beginning.” 

Peter nodded. He remembered a little bit about that; about being passed drink after drink and feeling as if he’d been coerced even after declining.  “She kept getting me drunk…” 

“She took advantage of you.” Ronan’s hands clenched by his sides.  “A drunken person cannot consent; she took advantage of you.” 

Peter shook his head.  He gave a confused look as he mumbled, “But I didn’t fight her or anything; I think I… I  _ did  _ consent…” 

“I was under the impression you didn’t fight your father either, yet I highly doubt you consented to  _ him _ .” Ronan  _ hated  _ that Peter’s mind was so messed up when it came to sex - and the fact that clearly no one had even sat down with him and explained to him what consent  _ is  _ pissed him off so much, he could feel himself ready to fly off the handles.  “Your consent can  _ change  _ during sex, but being that she  _ dragged  _ you into a bedroom while you were saying no to her is  _ not  _ your consent.” 

“But I  _ slept  _ with her!” Peter exasperated.  “I  _ slept  _ with her, and it sort of felt  _ good  _ for me!  Stop  _ confusing  _ me!” 

“Only sort of?” Ronan raised his eyebrow.  

Peter nodded.  “I stopped because it started feeling  _ too  _ good and I didn’t like it…” 

“Why would you abandon something that feels good?” Ronan truly didn’t understand, and he was  _ glad  _ he couldn’t; to live the kind of life Peter did… 

“It made me…  _ uncomfortable _ .” Peter fidgeted and looked away.  “Every time I’ve tried masturbation, I never felt much…  I didn’t… I didn’t know what to  _ expect _ , and it…  It was starting to feel better than I’d thought it would, and I…  I… I felt  _ conflicted _ …” 

“Conflicted?” 

“...That I might…  That I might…  _ want sex _ after that…” Peter bowed his head in shame.  “I don’t want to hurt anyone, Ro, and I… I-I tried to  _ hurt  _ her…” 

Ronan was silent for several minutes as he tried to imagine what he’d been told; sweet, talkative,  _ gentle  _ Peter could  _ never  _ try and hurt someone.  

But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense to him; clearly Peter had little to no comprehension that he wasn’t  _ supposed  _ to be hurting his partners, and in trying to do so, it ruined the experience entirely for him.  

“What do you think about when you are alone in your room masturbating?” Ronan was blunt, and Peter found himself  _ cringing  _ at how easily Ronan could ask such things.  

But still, Peter responded in a tiny voice.  “...H-hurting someone… L-like how Ego… Like what Ego did to me…” 

Ronan nodded in understanding.  “And what made it enjoyable for you last night?” 

“When I realised she was enjoying it and I slowed down to be gentle to her because I didn’t like being so rough…” Peter didn’t hesitate to respond. 

“Clearly you are no rapist.  Not that I could ever see you being one.  My best advice to you is to learn to enjoy what feels best for you.  I need not explain that any further, do I?” 

Peter shook his head.  “You don’t want me to be like Ego…”

“Not at all.  I, unfortunately, am fond of you as you are.” Ronan’s lips curled upwards deviously.  “And if you ever need someone to teach you, I am more than happy to offer my expert services.” 

Peter slowly dragged his eyes upwards to meet Ronan’s for a split second before he dropped his gaze again and frowned.  He hesitated, but he pulled himself against Ronan and curled up against the man’s side, enjoying the arm that wrapped around him and held him close.  “...You’re a…  _ playboy _ .” 

Ronan chuckled.  “Nothing wrong with that.” 

Peter hummed and closed his eyes, waiting for his hangover to subside.  “Can I come to the gym with you soon…? When I feel better…?” 

“I suppose I can move my commitments to later on in the day,” Ronan agreed.  “Lay down and rest. You will feel better shortly.” 

Peter nodded.  He allowed himself to be manhandled onto his back so the blankets could be tucked in tightly around him.  With that, he closed his eyes once more and fell asleep, feeling much more at peace now than he had ten minutes ago.    


	15. Chapter 15

“You gonn’ come shoppin’ with me, boy?” 

Peter broke his eyes away from the living room ceiling at Yondu’s voice.  He turned his head to the side to look at the man, his body shifting slightly on the couch he laid upon as he blinked away his stupor.  A deep frown crossed his face as he realised he’d been laying there so long, Yondu had been home from work for an hour already, and Peter hadn’t even realised he was there.  “Huh…?”

“You gonn’ come shoppin’ with me, or ya gonna keep laying there another hour disassociatin’?” Yondu sighed.  His tone softened from the hardened growl he’d just voiced; Peter didn’t deserve for  _ anyone  _ to treat him coldly, but sometimes Yondu’s heart just ached too much.  “Ya know it hurts ta see ya like it, Petey…” 

“‘Kay…” Peter mumbled with resignation.  His body shuffled again with mounting anxiety, and without even realising it, his sharp nails scratched his wrist bloody as he slowly stood to go and fetch his jacket.  

“So what ya been doin’ all day?” Yondu called after Peter in an effort to break the tension.  He already knew the answer, but sometimes he hoped in vain that Peter would tell him something new for once.

“Nothin’...” Peter disappeared down the hallway, but when he returned with his jacket donned and his trembling hands wringing it, he bowed his head and mumbled, “Waited for Yondu to come home…” 

“Don’t wait on me, boy; I tell ya every time.  Go see yer friends if yer lonely.” Yondu gave a stiff nod in reluctant acceptance and clapped Peter on the shoulder. He reached into his pocket to fetch his keys and pass them to Peter, hoping it’d be enough to distract him from his misery. “Ya wanna drive?” 

Peter nodded again.  He was silent until they’d gotten into the car and driven away from the residential suburbs, but finally, once they’d hit rush hour traffic, he murmured, “I think I did something bad, Yondu…” 

Yondu hummed.  He knew Peter’s anxiety was increasing with the way he kept creeping the car forward at the red light and revving the engine softly while traffic still wasn’t moving; Peter couldn’t keep still, and it was the best he could do to fidget as he needed to.  “What ya do? I’m sure it’s fine, Petey; yer a good kid.” 

Peter shook his head.  Stubbornly, he countered, “You’ll be ashamed of me, though.” 

“Nah.” Yondu waved a dismissive hand.  “Krag already told me if it’s what I’m thinkin’ of.  I’ve just been waitin’ on ya to tell me yerself.”

Peter frowned deeply.  His foot pressed harder on the accelerator, revving loudly in short bursts as his mouth went dry.  “What did he tell you…?” 

“That ya been sleepin’ ‘round with people from yer classes.” Yondu shrugged.  

Peter let out a frustrated sound. The light turned from red to green, and in his distress, he almost dumped the clutch on take-off.  “It’s not like that!” 

Yondu remained calm as ever.  “Well, why don’t ya tell me ‘bout it, Petey?  Tell me how it is.” 

Peter shook his head.  He was adamant as he announced, “You’ll hate me.” 

Yondu waved a dismissive hand.  “I didn’t hate ya when Krag told me yer sleepin’ ‘round, and I’m sure I won’t hate you when ya tell me what happened.” 

Peter sniffed.  “...It’s just… I-I don’t…  I don’t  _ ask  _ to be with people.  But they come up to me, and they tell me they heard I… I slept with a girl when I was drunk.  So they kinda - they kinda  _ ask  _ me to be with them, and I…  I-I feel  _ obligated  _ to say yes.” 

“But ya don’t want to.” Yondu’s hands clenched by his sides.  

Peter shook his head.  “Not exactly, Yondu… I don’t  _ want  _ to, but I don’t  _ don’t  _ want to either.  I just… I feel  _ empty  _ about it, you know?  Like I’m worth only that and nothing more - worth only people taking what they want from me…”

“Petey…” 

“I don’t wanna say  _ yes,  _ but like…  I don’t really have the energy to say no, either. So I kinda - I just  _ roll  _ with it, you know, Yondu?” Peter sighed.  “I think I’ve just stopped caring about what people do to me.”

Yondu hated what he was hearing, but he knew there wasn’t much he could do; Peter had been through such a hell, it was entirely possible this would be the best mindset they could hope for Peter to adopt.  He pointed to a convenience store up ahead, knowing that while he may never be able to change Peter’s ways of thinking, there was at least _ something  _ he could do to help.  “Stop there, Pete.” 

Peter didn’t question the command; he pulled the car off the road and into the parking lot.  He didn’t get out of the car, though; he kept his hands gripped tightly to the steering wheel as he mumbled, “It doesn’t feel very good for me anyway, Yondu.  Everyone complains at me ‘cause I never - I never…  _ c-come. _ ” 

“Ya aren’t comin’ cause ya stop before ya even enjoy it.” Yondu shook his head. “Krag told me, boy. Yer not likin’ when it  _ does  _ feel good for ya, so yer stressin’ yerself our more and makin’ it even  _ worse _ .  Relax a little, will ya?”

“I don’t like it when it feels good because it  _ scares  _ me, Yondu!” Peter cried.  “I’ve spent my entire life terrified of sex!  Then I have it and I…!”

“Didn’t you ever stop to think that maybe it’s  _ okay  _ for it ta feel good for ya?” Yondu’s tone became firm.  “It’s  _ s’posed  _ to feel good!  Stop stressin’ over what that jackass taught ya and believe  _ me _ , Pete!  I ain’t bein’ soft on ya; I’m damned tryin’ to tell ya you can be so  _ stupid  _ sometimes!” 

Peter sniffed as hurt flooded through him.  “Hey…” 

“Why ya always gotta think about complicated stuff?  Ya overthink and upset yerself. It’s  _ okay  _ to enjoy sex, Pete!  Don’t think about it; just  _ enjoy it _ !” 

Peter didn’t respond; he turned the engine off and got out of the car so he could follow Yondu inside reluctantly.  “...” 

Yondu felt bad.  He truly did. He  _ hated  _ snapping at Peter, but sometimes his patience wore thin, and he hardened his own emotions to keep from hurting  _ himself,  _ too.  His tone softened again, knowing to be gentle about the subject - but having said his piece, he felt it was best to drop the subject and move on lest he hurt Peter even more.  Peter had to figure things out on his own, but that would never happen if Yondu drove him even further away from the subject of sex by yelling at him about it.

“Pete, ya gonna work it out on your own one day.” Yondu led Peter to one of the aisles at the back, glad to see from the corner of his eye that Peter’s tension was lessening now that Yondu had relaxed again.  “At the very least, ya gotta protect yerself. Ya shoulda told me sooner so I could get ya supplies.” 

Peter shifted uncomfortably.  “I don’t need anything…” 

“Yeah, ya do - I ain’t babysittin’ no damn baby for ya, or makin’ sure ya don’t catch somethin’ nasty.” Yondu swiped a box of condoms off the shelf so he could shove them into Peter’s arms.  “Ya don’t know how hard it was for me ta know ya had somethin’ already before I got ya.” 

Peter sniffed.  He remembered that, laying in the hospital bed and having pills forced down his throat every day for something he couldn’t even remember the  name of. Truthfully, the pills had helped him feel better, but even so, he never wanted to go through that again. “‘Kay…” 

“Ya wear those with whoever ya get into bed with,” Yondu instructed before he grabbed a bottle off the shelf next.  “Some lube - useful for when ya alone in yer room.”

“I already got some of that,” Peter whispered.  He looked away when Yondu raised his eyebrow inquisitively. “R-ronan gave me some when he was being creepy again…” 

Yondu snorted.  “I hate him.” 

“He’s _ nice  _ to me, Yondu,” Peter promised.  “He punched someone in the face for me once…” 

“What, ya sayin’  _ I  _ wouldn’t do the same?” 

“Yeah.” The corners of Peter’s lips twitched upwards as his mood became a tad more lighthearted at Yondu’s jealousy.  “If the shoe fits, Yondu.” 

“Shithead.” Yondu squeezed Peter’s shoulder affectionately.  “Ya wouldn’t believe some o’ the stuff I done for ya, boy… Punching someone in the face is no comparison.” 

Peter’s smile widened slightly.  “Thanks, Yondu.”’

“Yeah, boy.  Don’t forget that.” 

“I won’t,” Peter promised.  It was a promise he’d never fail to keep.

* * *

 

It was normal for Peter to hear Yondu’s phone beep incessantly with never-ending text messages, but he never thought much of it; Yondu’s friends were a talkative bunch, and rarely he was the subject of their texts. 

But tonight, as Peter sat in the study with Yondu, Peter turned around at his name being called. 

“Petey, ya wanna go away with Stakar for a while?” Yondu was holding his phone, his eyes never looking up from the message he’d just read.  

Peter hummed. He paused the YouTube video he’d been watching on his computer so he could turn around and face Yondu.  “Where to?” 

“He’s goin’ campin’ with his friends for the weekend; leaves in the mornin’,” Yondu promised.  “He’ll take ya shootin’ again if ya wanna go.” 

An excited grin broke out across Peter’s face as he nodded vehemently.  “I don’t wanna shoot any animals, Yondu, but I wanna go with grandpa! Is Aleta gonna come, too?!” 

“I’m not sure; maybe.” Yondu closed his banking book and turned the screen of his own computer off.  “Ya wanna go get ready? Get in the shower; I’ll help ya pack yer stuff.” 

Peter nodded. His smile never faltered as he stood up and left to get in the shower, his mood so good, he couldn’t help but hum to himself as he went.  

Peter loved it when Stakar took him camping because it was one of the few things in his life that took away the pain and reminded him how to smile and laugh sincerely.  He loved that Stakar and Aleta spoiled him and took him shooting, and he loved that Stakar let him drive his giant Land Cruiser off-road; it helped fill the void in his heart, and even if it were only temporary until he’d get home and feel empty once again, at least for the moment he could enjoy his life.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I've been busy with my exams and such and had a bit going on in my personal life so I didn't have much time to write. I originally was going to end the story around this chapter but I felt so bad for making everyone wait that I think you guys deserve another chapter or two to tie things up nicely :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is a nice tie up for the last chapter. Just a couple things; there is very slight Peter/Jane, but it isn't much and important to the plot. Another thing; I think most people reading this fic are here after reading the first two in this series, but if you're not into the idea of implied slash, you can skip the epilogue; it should still tie up nicely anyway. Thank you for reading this far; I know just how hard this can be to read emotionally. I do hope you enjoy the last chapter, though :)

“Umm…” Peter’s eyes darted between Yondu and Kraglin, and they avoided Stakar and Yondu’s other friends completely as he gave an uncomfortable fidget.  He didn’t realise his right hand had slipped to the side to scratch at his wrist again; he only mumbled, “This is my girlfriend…” 

There was stunned silence amongst everyone present as they looked to the girl by Peter’s side in disbelief.  

Yondu was first to speak, but it wasn’t without confusion.  “Well, uh… Have fun?” 

Peter nodded silently before he turned around to lead his girlfriend back through the sliding patio door to sit her in the living room.  He heard the mumbles from around the outdoor table, but he didn’t stop to listen; he was uncomfortable enough as it was without hearing their disgust in him. 

They sat on the couch together, but it wasn’t in contentment; if anything, Peter only felt worse than he had coming home moments before.  

“Do you… want anything to eat…?” Peter’s hands trembled in his lap as he hoped to garner her attention away from her phone.  His stomach sunk further as she ignored him, just as she’d been doing for a huge chunk of their time together. “Jane…?”

“Wait your turn; I’m texting Darcy!” Jane reprimanded.  

Peter sighed. His shoulders slumped in disappointment.  He reached out to the coffee table to take the TV remote and turn it on, but what he  _ really  _ wanted was to sit outside with everyone and laugh along with them.  

They sat in silence for so long, Peter felt more alone than he had in a long time.  He was thankful for Rocket eventually coming to him and curling up on his lap; the raccoon helped stave away some of the loneliness, but it just wasn’t enough. 

“Jane…?” Peter moved closer.  He did as he would with anyone else in his life and curled up against her, extending one arm behind her to hold her simultaneously. 

But apparently, Peter had once again done something wrong as he was being shooed away like he were nothing more than a mangy dog on the streets.  “Get off me! Did I  _ say  _ you could do that?!”

“No one else has a problem when I cuddle them…” The familiar anger swirled in Peter’s heart, but it was drowned out by his pain, sadness and longing to belong.  “I just… wanted to be  _ close  _ to you.” 

“Well,  _ don’t _ !” Jane snapped. “You made me forget what I was going to text!” 

“I’m sorry.” The apology didn’t sound sincere to Peter’s own ears, and he supposed that was because he  _ wasn’t  _ apologetic; he was only trying to do what he thought everyone did in relationships!  People cuddled on the TV all the time! 

“Forget it.  Let’s go to your room.” Jane stood up and stomped out of the living room without even waiting for Peter.  

Peter growled, but still, he obeyed. He carried Rocket with him, hating that he hadn’t even stepped past the threshold of his bedroom doorway yet and Jane was already stripping her clothes off.  He sighed in reluctant acceptance, hoping that it would be quick today and she wouldn’t make him keep going once he was bored like she tended to do. 

“Well?” Jane dropped her bra to the ground. She was smiling now, her moody disposition gone and instead replaced by what almost could have passed as gentleness. “Come on, then, hot stuff.” 

Peter shuddered.  He allowed his eyes to linger on her breasts to try and stimulate the first waves of arousal, but it wasn’t working very well.  He stepped in and closed the door behind him, but he didn’t do anything; he only stood where he was, looking at his feet. 

Jane let out an impatient grunt.  “What are you waiting for? Put that flea-bitten rodent down and come ravish me~” 

A spark of anger somersaulted through Peter’s stomach.  His eyes narrowed, and his tone became hard. “Leave him alone; he’s  _ not _ a rodent and I gave him a flea-bath last night!” 

“It’s a stinking,  _ disgusting  _ thing and if you don’t put it outside now, I’m not going to fuck you.” Jane took a step forward, and Peter matched it by backing away.  

Peter was silent for several moments as his mind twisted, but finally, for the first time in his life, he stood up for himself. “No.” 

“Put it out!” Jane, who had backed Peter into the corner, shot her hands out to grab Rocket by the scruff of his neck and pull him from Peter’s arms. 

Peter snapped.  At Rocket’s pained, frightened squeaks, his own hand reached out to grab Jane’s wrist and  _ squeeze _ .  He wasn’t used to yelling at people - but honestly, he wasn’t used to taking a stand for himself, either; he’d just had enough, he supposed.  “He’s  _ my  _ raccoon, and he can be in here if I want him to be!  I like him more than I like  _ you _ , so I’d rather put  _ you  _ out!  Don’t grab him like that again; you  _ hurt  _ him!” 

“Don’t you yell at me!” Jane yelled back.  She slapped Peter across the cheek, but all it accomplished was setting him off more. 

Peter dropped Rocket to his feet so he could use both hands to take Jane’s wrist and push her backwards with his body weight. “Don’t fuckin’  _ hit me _ !  _  I hate you _ !” 

Jane’s back hit the wall behind her, and Peter kept her pinned there with his own body.  He screamed incoherently at her as he fought every instinct he had to lash out for hitting him - but just as his willpower failed and his hand curled into a fist, someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him away from Jane.  

“What the hell, Pete!” 

Peter recognised Horuz’s voice from behind him, but he didn’t care; Jane had hit him, and he’d had  _ enough.  _ “She slapped me and pulled Rocket’s fur!   _ Fuck  _ her!” 

Peter barely noticed Jane being walked from the room; he was too busy trying to escape the arms that held him tight to someone’s chest. He gave a scream of agitation, but he calmed down at the thick fingers that slowly stroked through his hair and brought comfort to him.  

The room was filled with a heavy silence until Peter was sat on his bed with Tullk’s arm around his shoulders.  

“Pete, what the hell happened?” Yondu questioned concernedly; never had Peter lashed out at anyone other than Yondu, and he hated to think what could have caused it. 

Peter growled to himself before he pulled away from his friends and hid beneath his blankets. Someone pulled the blankets up to put Rocket under them as well, and he didn’t hesitate to pull the raccoon into his arms.  “She was being a bitch to Rocket and I didn’t like it, so I said no to her when she tried to make me put him out.” 

Someone’s hand smoothed over what of Peter’s head stuck out from under the blankets, but it was Tullk who spoke.  “She sounded like a real bitch anyway; we were listening to you two from outside. Why’d you try and date someone like that, Pete?” 

“He got no self-respect!” Yondu snapped.  He didn’t even know  _ why _ .  “He got no self-respect and thinks it’s ‘kay to let e’ryone walk all over him!” 

“Uh, I think it’s  _ my _ fault…” Kraglin mumbled from the doorway.  He flinched at Yondu’s glare, but still he braved the man’s wrath.  “I told ‘im he should date instead of sleepin’ ‘round - might find the right person if he does…” 

“Well,  _ she  _ isn’t the ‘right person’!” Yondu snapped.  “She was a bitch to him and who knows how long he been seein’ her for!” 

“Two weeks…” Peter muttered from under the blankets.  

“Two weeks of her makin’ him feel like shit!” Yondu felt like hitting something.  

Whoever was stroking Peter’s head didn’t stop, and it gave Peter enough courage to pull the blankets away from his face so he could murmur, “Krag said I don’t have to sleep around if I’m dating…  He said I could learn to love someone if I gave them a chance…”

“Not if they treat ya like shit!” Yondu yelled.  “They just make ya feel even  _ worse _ !  Ya need to date someone who makes ya  _ happy _ !  Not fuckin’  _ miserable! _ ” 

“I don’t  _ know  _ how to love someone, Yondu!” Peter snapped back.  “I’m  _ trying _ , but you’re making it even  _ harder  _ for me!  Leave me alone; I’m doing my best!” 

“Yondu, leave him.” Stakar’s tone left no room for argument.  “I’m going to take him to see Aleta; he needs her.” 

“Oh, go to hell!” Yondu yelled.  “He’s  _ my  _ boy!”

“And you’re doing a fantastic job,” Stakar drawled.  He grabbed Peter by the arm and helped him sit up. “Let’s go see Aleta, Peter.” 

Peter didn’t hesitate to obey; he sniffed loudly as he hugged Rocket tight before doing the same to everyone else.  He said nothing as he went outside to Stakar’s Land Cruiser parked on the front lawn; he only closed his eyes and tried to force himself into sleep. 

* * *

 

“How is he?” 

Aleta looked up at Stakar’s voice. From where she sat on the couch with her arms holding the sleeping Peter tight, she whispered, “He’s okay now. We’ve had a long talk.” 

“Yondu isn’t happy.” Stakar settled on the couch beside his wife.  “He’s still mad at himself because he doesn’t know how to get Peter to stop letting people treat him like crap.” 

“He stood up for himself; I’d say that’s a big step for him,” Aleta whispered.  She shifted slightly, trying not to disturb Peter’s head on her shoulder from where he lay draped against her.  “He gets scared telling people no because he thinks it’s better for people to pay him negative attention than to hate him and ignore him entirely.  He just wants people to like him.” 

“What did you tell him about that?” 

“That it’s better to have one person who likes him than twenty people who make him feel even more alone,” Aleta promised.  “He said he’ll try and stand up for himself more. But he doesn’t know if he wants to try dating again; he said he only tried it because he thought it would get people to stop asking him for sex.” 

Stakar sighed.  “Yondu wasn’t wrong, though; he doesn’t have any self-worth or respect for himself.  He’s been stripped of so much.”

“He’s getting better,” Aleta reaffirmed.  “You  _ know  _ he is.  He’s still learning, and there’s nothing wrong with how long it’s taking him.” 

“I know.  He’ll get there.  He just doesn’t know  _ how _ .” 

* * *

 

**Four Years Later**

“Okay, everyone, choose a partner for the assignment!” 

Peter wasn’t worried about what the lecturer had just said; his friends always partnered with him with projects, and he was sure now would be no different. 

...Except for the fact that Gamora seemed to be snobbing him as his arch-nemesis approached with that stupid,  _ stupid  _ smile he hated so much. 

“Quill, would you like to be my partner for this one?” Thor’s smile seemed to be contagious to everyone but Peter, as Peter sneered untrustingly at his outstretched hand. 

Peter tried to ignore Thor, to pretend that he wasn’t standing there waiting so patiently for an answer.  Reluctantly, he looked back at Thor when Gamora nudged him in the ribs in scolding. “...” 

“We should work together.” 

Those four words were the catalyst that gave Peter the final push he needed to get his life together. 


End file.
